


Takes One to Know One

by IbelieveinMarkNutt



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Drugs, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Rape Recovery, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 43,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IbelieveinMarkNutt/pseuds/IbelieveinMarkNutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Awful, out-of-character fic I wrote when I was fourteen. Enjoy you sick minded fucks.<br/>-<br/>After he stood on the stand against his violent father on charges of assault and rape, a broken 16-year-old Michael Jones, alongside his mother, have been placed under witness protection and moved to a small town called RoosterTeeth in the South-East of England, things seem to be looking up and Michael is enrolled in the local school Achievement Hunter High. However Achievement Hunters is ending up to be just another headache for Michael, it’s week one and he's already having to deal with a certain drunken head teacher ruling over the place without a care in the world, people teaching him classes he's one hundred percent sure aren't qualified and some asshole called Gavin who seems to have picked Michael as his newest victim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Achievement Hunter High

**Author's Note:**

> Illustrations done in this chapter are done by the fabulous Anya! (frecklesandbignoses.tumblr.com)
> 
> Before you begin:  
> A. The realism in this fic is bad, this is not a story I'm particularly proud of.  
> B. This was for the MavinFicBang2013. I procrastioned so much I basically had a week. It's rushed. I'm sorry.  
> C. Apart from that, I hope you enjoy the story~

The wordless car journey towards Achievement Hunter High would seem to the unknowing eye one of a regular housewife and her regular teenage son. You may guess that the silence was from perhaps an argument that neither of them were ready to apologize for, or you could guess that the two were exhausted considering it was early Monday morning. However you would be wrong. The silence the mother and son shared on this sunny British morning was the simultaneous silence of relief.

"It's all gonna be fine, Michael." The young boy's withered mother spoke curtly, dark circles bored deeply under life-ridden grey irises. She continued to break the silence, eyes staring straight ahead at the road in front of her. "We'll just go at this one day at a time, no need to get stressed out on your first day."

"For God sake! I've told you over a hundred times, Mom! I'm _fine_." The teen interrupted sharply, trying to get used to the feeling wearing uniform. As Michael spoke he pulled at his tie with both hands, frustrated. "And my name isn't 'Michael _'_ it's- _._ "

"Now listen to me, right now." The woman's eyes shot at her stouty son dangerously, she clenched her teeth together before relaxing her jaw and shoulders, refusing to let her temper ruin the infuriating boy's first day in a new life. "You're name is Michael Jones. My name is Emma Jones. You've been home educated since 2nd Grade after your father died in a car accident. We've just moved from New York after traveling around the States looking for work. I hope you're taking all this in, young man."

"Perfectly." Michael retorted as he continued to wriggle with his tie, not managing to keep the cap on his anger that his mother was. "I just wish we could-"

The teen went silent, eyes glazing over, finishing the sentence in his mind.

' _Not pretend._ '

A scar marked hand skimmed down Michael's arm, the owner's second hand still holding onto the car's steering wheel, her eyes boring ahead at the road. "I know, sweetie. I'm sorry."

"I hate him so much. I wish he was dead"

"Me too." Michael's mother whispered huskily, drawing back her comforting hand, she tightened her grasp onto the black leather of the steering wheel. "As long as you keep what's important to yourself, there'll be no need to worry about him or his stupid involvement with that awful gang. You heard what the inspector said, the police have sorted everything out for us-"

The young woman's lightly lipsticked mouth paused, realising that she was just talking to comfort herself rather than Michael. Her, suddenly worried, grey eyes flickered to her son who was still wrestling with his grey and green coloured necktie, having seemingly become oblivious to her words.

Emma's lips, once again, stretched into an irritated straight line at the boy. "Michael Vincent Jones, if you do not stop fiddling with that thing I will personally stop this car and strangle you with it."

Michael paused, about to remind his mother that 'that isn't my fucking name' before he huffed and rolled his eyes, giving up and letting his arms drop to his sides. After a moment of willing himself not to touch the fabric again, the grimacing boy chose to hoist his left elbow onto the car's armrest and watch the scenery fly by at a speedy rate.

"It's a lot prettier than New Jersey, isn't it?" Michael's mother tried, calming herself down with a sigh, her fiery red roots peeking out through obviously fake blonde hair.

Michael grunted, he had pushed away all thoughts of home and was preoccupied with remembering the path so he could find his way back by foot.

"A lot safer too."

Grunt.

The woman sighed again, longer this time, giving up all attempts at conversation and letting the gentle hum of the engine alongside the whoosh of the wind outside the tightly shut windows lull them back into a comfortable silence.

~

Michael was stood at the gates of his new school, half-listening to the sound of his mother's hired car disappearing down the road behind him. He hated being alone. Especially in places he knew nothing about. The shaking teen was pretty sure this was the first time in over a year he'd actually stepped foot in any kind of school.

The memories of his time at Chelsea Heights School, a New Jerseyan school that he had attended before certain incidents, hadn't exactly been the most pleasant, and, unknown to the 16-year-old's mother, Michael had been dreading coming to such a place again.

Copper-coloured eyes slid upwards from the concrete, the boy's fingers flexing around their firm grip on the bottom of the strap on his green-painted bag. Michael was allowing himself to take in the sights around him before the inevitable trek towards the building's visible past the main entrance.

The opening itself was a massive black brick arch, a large, black iron welded gate unlocked for students and staff, pushed wide open inwardly, cruelly ushering Michael inside.

Either side of the arch, on both sides, a large brick wall stretched outwards as far as the naked eye could see, the brick work blacken the same ashy colour as the arch, the white concrete holding the hardened cement together contrasting strongly. A border of the same snow-coloured cement was plastered round the top of the wall, which rolled out on the top, creating a small concrete ledge on each side of the wall all the way around the brick wall, as far as Michael could see, anyway.

Looking back to the entrance, the words 'Achievement Hunter High' were engraved in block capitals into bleached coloured concrete that was shaped into a rectangle, moulded to the very top, front of the brick arch. A peculiar logo was engraved above the writing, the outline of the shape coloured black whilst the carved out out stone had been painted a bright green.

Michael frowned at the decoration, the shape reminding him of black a joystick, seated in the center of green star, surrounded by the outline of a green circle split into four chunks.

Deciding he had procrastinated enough, Michael entered under the arch, a concrete-coloured path taking him directly through a large patch of muddy grass, that was sprawled either side of the main brickwork.

The lone boy glanced at his phone, pulling the device from his front pocket.

8:45am: homeroom here had started 15 minutes ago.

According to his mother, the 'Head Teacher' wanted to talk to Michael before he started the school day. He could already feel bile rising in his throat at the thought of being alone with an older man again, but the paling student shook the thought off.

The Principal was probably going to be an alright guy, there was no need for the teen to get in a state over meeting his new _Head Teacher_. The boy cracked a smile inwardly, to Michael, calling the principal a head teacher sounded stupid, but he guessed he was just going to have to get used to it.

The front of the school was quite large, two prolonged rock slabs were being used as steps which led upwards to a small bricked area, where three different thick glass doors stood at the end. Columns stood on either side of each door holding up a sideless overhanging that stretched outwards and stopped just after where the wide doorway began.

Michael clutched at the top of his shoulder bag nervously with his right hand, pulling it upwards slightly and realigning it. He had been told to go to the reception, and at this point, he had no idea where he was. Taking a deep, calming breath he looked to his right where there was a slenderer, fenced concrete path, that went towards another smaller building with a bike shed pinned to one of the walls.

' _Definitely not a reception.'_ Michael deduced to himself.

The young boy then shuffled backwards, looked over to his left, and pulled an irritated expression, pursing his lips slightly.

The rest of the building dipped backwards from the entrance, tucked just to the left of the four main doors. From the dip the architecture continued to stretch down, showing how big the towering construction in front of Michael was.

Plastic, lime letters that read: 'Reception' were stuck onto black brick-work that matched the colour of the wall that surrounded the school. Sliding, electric doors opened feebly as a lone pigeon dropped itself downwards from on top of the building before setting off again.

Grumbling to himself about how on Earth he had possibly missed the layout of the building on his trudge over to the large structure. Michael made his way to the other, smaller entrance, grimacing.

"Fucking stupid." The new pupil muttered to himself, hoping no one had seen his stupidity.

"No students through the front of reception ple-" A petite woman with shoulder length blonde hair and thick black eyeliner began, before looking upwards from her computer properly and taking in the red-haired boy who had stopped dead in his tracks.

Michael shuffled awkwardly, unsure of the right thing to say.

"Oh!" The receptionist exploded, causing Michael to jump slightly. She flashed a smile, white teeth appearing brightly out of her pink lips. "You must be Michael!"

The enthusiastic woman jumped up, straightening out a knee length, well-fitting, black dress.

"I guess I'll have to forgive you for today, but in future use the back way, 'kay?" The lady winked, still smiling and began to rummage through a draw hidden from student's views.

Michael stayed silent, fiddling with the strap of his bag again.

' _Back way? It took me long enough to find the fucking front way! I wish I could just sit down already, my feet are aching._ '

Michael bit his bottom lip gently, his eyes gazing across his sneakers and the blue patterned carpet.

"Here!" The receptionist piped up, snapping Michael out of his day dream. She was holding out what looked like an A5 notepad, with two sheets of the same sized paper, paperclipped on top. The new student glanced upwards at the articles in the woman's grasp, averted his eyes back to the floor and abruptly stepped forward, taking the supplies from her tanned hand with both of his own.

"Thanks." Michael managed, clutching the notepad in both hands tentatively, still not wanting to meet the woman's gaze.

"Well Michael," The blonde leaned over her desk, tiptoed in her high heels, the shoes unseen by the new Michael's glasses-covered eyes. "That there is your timetable, your map and your new school planner."

The receptionist continued to smile brightly, moving her head to try and catch Michael's gaze, gently tapping the papers in the boy's hands. "I'm Miss Eberle by the way; you can swing by here anytime you need help with anything."

"Mm." Michael replied, trying to ignore the rising feeling of dread at her unwanted closeness, both emotionally and physically.

A loud crash from the right side of the building caused Michael to flinch back violently, dropping his newly acquired schoolbook, map and timetable to the ground.

Miss Eberle breathed in sharply, closing her eyes as a wooden door swung open, the door frame shaking from the force. A large, bearded man with droopy eyes and a sly smile slunk into the room. His messy black hair was ruffled up at the front, two silver hooped piercings embedded into an ear lob, the man's eyes shone playful as he lazily scratched at the bottom of his chin, disturbing stubbly facial hair.

"Mornin' Kara!" The man boomed cheerily, waltzing up to the reception desk, ignoring the taken aback pupil who began to re-collect his things.

Michael looked the rugged man up and down, misplaced panic sloshing through his veins as he widened his eyes.

' _Who the hell is this guy?'_

The strange man wore a wrinkled, untucked dress shirt that held a loose red tie. A brown jacket with darker brown ovals on the elbows hung loosely from his body while lighter brown suspenders, with a strip of dark hue yellow down the middle, hung in two hoops by his thighs over a pair of loose fitting coal-dyed slacks, finished off with black leather loafers.

Kara let out a long breath she didn't realise she was holding and snapped open her eyes, gritting her teeth together in a strained smile, still leaning, unconsciously, over the desk. "Why good morning, Mr Ramsey, I see you are well- and for the _hundredth_ time Sir, _please_ don't refer to me so unprofessionally during school hours."

The young woman jerked her head towards Michael with wide eyes. The boy in question straightened up after picking up the dropped items from the carpeted floor and shoving them into his shoulder bag.

The bag hung slackly over his right shoulder and held a faded picture of Fluttershy across the front on the light green fabric.

"If it makes you feel any better you can always just call me, Geoff." Mr Ramsey grinned, stuffing both of his hands into the back pockets of his slacks and leaning backwards onto the wall next to the desk.

"That won't be necessary, Mr Ramsey, _Sir_."

"Suit yourself."

Miss Eberle rolled her eyes, pushing herself back off the desk and plonking her body back down into her usual seat. "Michael Jones is here at the time you requested, Sir."

' _Requested?'_

Michael's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, his heart still racing at a terrible speed as the teen consciously made an effort not to make eye contact with either of them.

"Michael...?" Geoff looked at the boy in front of him and back to Kara before running a large hand roughly through his hair. His eyes expanded. "Wait, wait. Oh. Oh! Michael Jones! Hey, you're that kid that just transferred from America right?"

' _No shit'_

"Yes, Sir." Michael squeaked, swallowing hard in embarrassment at his flustered position.

"I'm sorry, what?" Geoff pushed himself off the wall and stepped towards Michael, leaning downwards and putting his face close to Michael's, the younger of the two wrinkled his nose in disgust. Mr Ramsey's breath was hot and heavy on Michael face and his entire being stank to high heaven of some form of alcohol. "You're gonna have to speak up around here, buddy. Most of us teachers aren't as young as we used to be."

' _Well maybe you could hear me if you weren't drunk off your head, you fucktard.'_

"Sorry, Sir." Michael spoke slightly louder, glad his voice hadn't cracked for a second time, turning his face away from Geoff trying to hide the blush that was creeping onto his cheeks.

Mr Ramsey's 'in your face' persona may of been trying to be friendly, but where Michael was concerned, it was just making him feel incredibly uncomfortable.

"I don't think being that close to a pupil is entirely necessary, Mr Ramsey, Sir." Kara began, sensing the wide eyes student's discomfort and standing up to try and catch the red-tied man's attention.

"I decide what's necessary and what's not in my own fucking school, Kara." Geoff drawled, straightening up and turning to the frazzled receptionist. "Now, tell me where this kid is so we can get on with my boring-ass day."

' _Your fucking school? Wait, hold up, this pisshead is the_ _ **Headteacher**_ _?!'_ Michael's mouth went dry, pausing on that thought suddenly. _'Wait. Wait. Did he just say_ _ **fuck**_ _?'_

~

Michael wanted to _die_.

The shakily breathing student was stood in front of his new 'form', as Mr Ramsey had put it, and everyone was looking at him. He would have given anything at that moment to just melt away into the rough green carpet below him. Not only was he obviously wearing his new school uniform wrong, but now his new form tutor, Mr. Sorola, wanted him to stand at the front showing his dreadfully obvious disadvantage, and introduce himself.

Michael's tie was worn long and tied straight up to his collar, the boy's top button firmly done up. Around the class not a single person had more than four stripes on their tie, the fabric was pulled downwards, away from both boy's and girl's collars, their top two buttons loosely undone. The only thing the red head vaguely shared in his uniform style with the males of the class was his red sneakers, the colour clashing brightly against the boys dull coloured trainers and the girls black, decorated slip ons.

"So, Michael. Tell the class; what part of America do you come from?" Mr Sorola drawled from behind his desk, a knuckle resting under his chin, his elbow keeping him up straight whilst his other hand pushed large, square glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Three quarters of the class were loudly whispering between themselves. The words were out of Michael's ear shot, but he knew from the looks he was getting most of the conversation was all about him, and looking at his form tutor, it didn't look like he exactly cared enough to stop them.

' _What is the fucking point of me even being up here?'_

"New Je-" Micheal bit on the flesh of his tongue harshly; he wasn't supposed to publically say where he had come from. His mother had drilled the message into him time and time again, this was suppose to be for both his and _her_ protection. "York."

' _That was too fucking close.'_

"Hm." Mr Sorola replied. The bored looking man paused a little too long before he pointed to a seat at the back of the room, next to the empty seat was some older kid with spiky black locks and thin facial hair that was sprinkled around his mouth and under his chin. The raven-haired boy seemed to not be paying much attention and was presently gazing out of the window next to his table. "If you could take a seat next to Joel I'm sure he'll help you around school for today."

Michael nodded once in response to his new form tutors request, eyes skimming the room and it's faces one last time.

The tables were individually spaced in the small classroom, with two pupils at each desk, seated on light-blue, plastic chairs. There was four rows of this arrangement with small pathways in between each row to let students get to their seats, five tables making up each row.

Michael decided it was best to not make anymore eye-contact then needed and averted his gaze, quickly walking down one of the columns that lead to his new seat. When Michael made it past the third table of the row to his left, his world stopped.

A long, lanky trouser leg pulled out from under its desk and went straight into Michael's ankles.

The floor below the wide eyed student expanded suddenly in front of him as his faded, bruised palms and aching, scrap-covered knees hit rough green carpet. The last thing Michael saw before his eye wear was thrown from his face was the the earthy, green fabric of the ground, the flooring coloured with speckles of sickly yellow and red.

The class erupted into laughter all around Michael, heat flushing to face and seeping into his ears. The young boy ducked his head as he frantically ran his hand around the rough carpet, searching for his glasses, before his fingertips trailed over the familiar frame. Michael smashed his glasses back onto his head and turned, still on his hands and knees, to see the culprit of the redhead's misfortune leaning backwards in his seat, basking in the classes' amusement.

The boy was sat sideways on his chair, a large, smug grin plastered on his face above a crooked nose. A messy, unshaved face matched the smirking student's hair, hazelnut locks standing up at every angle on top of his head. He was blazer-less, the school's green and grey tie hanging, un-done, around his neck.

Michael's sat gormlessly, his blush only increasing as the attractive boy's gaze caught his own.

 _'Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ ' Michael's mind began to spit rapidly.

The redhead managed to claw his way to his feet, stumbling forward and finally reaching his newly assigned seat, swinging round onto the chair.

"Gavin Free! " Mr Sorola boomed angrily from behind his desk, jumping to his feet and storming toward the arrogant, still-grinning, student. "Outside, right now!"

Michael bit into his tongue, willing himself not to cry as the classes snickering, at long last, subsided into hazy mumbles.

Joel, however, seemed unfazed by the situation around him. His concentration was still on the clouds that were currently lazily drifting through the morning sky.

Form finished soon after Mr Sorola had finished screaming at the messy haired boy, just outside the room, the door unclosed, their entire conversation viewed by the entire class.

The bell rang through the halls as Michael's new form tutor trudged back to his seat, the loud drill of metal on metal signalling the first lesson of the day.

The room's brown haired teacher pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses and flicked his wrist in an exasperated way towards the doorway. People responded to the gesture and began milling out of the classroom in groups, chatter still pooling from students mouths.

Michael guessed he should head to his lesson too and looked upwards at his table partner, who stood up suddenly, slinging a black rucksack over his shoulder. He stepped awkwardly around Michael's chair and shoved a hand into his pocket, starting to walk away.

"Um, Joel, right?" Michael asked quietly, looking up at the back of taller boy's hair. "Do you, um, know where the building 'Caboose' is?"

Joel paused, ringing his wrist awkwardly and glancing backwards at the seated pupil.

"Y-You're in it." The raven-haired managed to reply before hastily turning on his heel and leaving the classroom.

Michael sighed, re-adjusted his glasses and swung his own bag on his shoulder.

He was alone again.

' _Thanks a bunch, asshole._ '

The lone student brought himself over to the classroom door, looking over at Mr Sorola, who was still pinching his nose, eyes glued shut. Michael decided it was best to leave the man alone and gently opened the door, shutting it silently behind him.

The redhead turned, and ended up immediately being met face to face with the one person he didn't want to see.

"Alright there, love? Didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself, before." Gavin smiled slyly, offering Michael an open palm, bowing down slightly to match Michael's height. "Gavin Free, at your service."

Michael looked Gavin up and down swiftly through polished glass, weighing up what would be the best response for the least trouble. After quick contemplation, he gingerly took Gavin's hand in his own, averting his stare. "Michael."

Gavin's smile grew wider, spreading the name over his British tongue. " _Michael._ "

Michael nodded, allowing eye contact with Gavin's ivy-coloured irises for a millisecond before he turned swiftly. He started to walk speedily, but aimlessly, left, willing the irritating boy to disappear.

' _Leave me the fuck alone_.'

"What lesson you in then, Michael?" Gavin began, matching Michael's hurried pace easily, in long, sluggish strides.

"Chemistry." Michael muttered.

"No way!" Gavin's eyes gleamed with dangerous excitement as he began to side-step alongside the redhead. "With ?"

Michael stopped dead in his tracks, bewilderment crossing his features, as pupils began to circle around the two as they went to lessons, due to Gavin's presence.

' _I cannot fucking believe this._ '

"In, um, C28?"

' _Michael, why the hell are you talking to this prick?!_ '

"Yes! Man, this is top! First period with the new guy!" Gavin's cat-like grin spread wider as he slung a lanky arm around Michael's hunched shoulders. "C'mon lad, I'll show you where the science rooms are."

 _'Whoop-dee-fricking-doo_.'

 ~

The first morning of Michael's new school life came and went with surprising and he actually found out quite a lot about both teachers and students.

First off, was an absolute conspiracy lunatic, but at least it made the lesson ten times more interesting than it could have been. Michael had been told to sit in an empty seat next to Gavin, much to the taller boy's excitement. They were not alone however as the table was also shared with two other boys Michael didn't bother remembering the names of.

Michael also learnt that him and Gavin, surprisingly, shared some common interests, the main one being video games. Not that Michael let _Gavin_ know this fact, only adding occasional umms and ahhs to their one-sided conversation, not paying much attention to whatever the hell it was he was saying.

Bizarre as it was, it seemed as if the other boy had completely forgotten the incident between the two of them earlier in their form room.

Not that Michael was going to.

Period two Michael spent sat alone in a Woodwork studio, doing worksheets whilst a substitute teacher, whose name he didn't bother to learn, sat at the front, chewing gum and typing at her computer. She obviously wasn't there to engage them into any fundamental learning and allowed the class to talk loudly among themselves. Michael didn't mind this kind of alone, just knowing that there were others around him was enough to stop the overwhelming feeling of loneliness from rising up his throat. He rested onto his elbow and opted to listening quietly to the conversations around him, instead of trying to label the different components of a sander machine.

After a simple 10 minutes of people-watching Michael had learnt that apparently, one boy on the table beside him had 'gone all the way with that slut Hillary last night', which caused the cynical lad to roll his eyes.

From the front of the classroom, a couple of boys, stood together sharpening pencils, taught Michael that in the technology group in the year below them that 'that bitch' on the course was still 'sucking up to the teacher' and getting good grades. If this information was suppose to anger Michael, all it did was intrigue him as to who this mysterious girl was.

Soon enough the day pushed on and after a lonely break of standing awkwardly in school corridors, the freckled teen arrived at his third period.

Michael was a little late though, after having to walk between two buildings, called, stupidly in Michael's opinion, 'Caboose' and 'Church'. He had been trying and failing to distinguish between the two C's and had eventually discovered the path to C34, hidden at the top of one of the maths department towers.

' _Stupid names_.'

Michael huffed to himself as he moved speedily to the classroom.

The heavily breathing boy jogged up the winding stairs in the south tower of Church, working his way upwards to the top floor.

' _Stupid stairs_.'

Michael reached the door of his new maths class, threading ruffled, long, curly hair through his pale fingers. He took a few moments to catch his breath and he opened the door to C34 to be greeted with a staring class.

The room roughly the same size as the redhead's form room, with similar, bland colouring splashed onto the walls, the carpet's red identical.

' _Looks like the school's budget on decor was pretty shitty...'_

The only difference, if it even counted as one, Michael could take in from his quick glance upwards before making friends with the ground again, was a massive, obviously class-made, border covering the top of the back wall, reading in big block capitals: 'MATHTASTIC'.

The teacher paused mid-sentence on the new boy's arrival, his whiteboard pen half-way through squiggling an equation onto the board.

Michael fiddled with his bag strap, his eyes back to training the lining of his sneakers.

"Sorry I'm late, sir." Michael finally breathed, dragging his foot silently along the carpet.

"No problem, Michael." The teacher smiled, he spoke warmly but clearly, handing the young boy in front of him a blue workpad and a textbook from his desk.

Michael looked up to take his new books from the man's hands and saw kind blue eyes framed by well-fitting glasses. A well-kept beard covered the roundness of the man's face and puffed out hair matched the teacher's belly.

A voice snapped Michael out of his musings. "Just make sure it doesn't happen again, yeah?"

"Yes, sir."

"Awesome." The maths teacher pointed to an empty seat next to the wall one row away from the front. "Now if you can take a seat next to Mr Narvaez we can begin the lesson."

"Thank-you, sir."

"And it's Mr Burns." The man smiled once more before he turned back to the board, continuing where he left off.

Michael proceeded to grant Mr Burns a small, privileged smile and walked towards the boy he was destined to spend the rest of his 'mathtastic' days with, trying to ignore the glances that still surrounded him wherever he went.

Michael's new seating partner scooted forward in his chair on his arrival, allowing the other student to squeeze through and take his new seat.

The boy immediately scrapped the chair backwards again, almost aggressively, as soon as Michael's bag touched the ground and continued working out the algebraic equation, scribbling away in smudgy, black ink.

The redhead looked around briefly, unsure of what to do.

Deciding he should at least write something across the front cover of his new book, Michael ended up swallowing his nerves, lowering his voice and leaning forward slightly towards the boy next to him. "Um, what am I suppose to put on the front of my book?"

The scrappy teenage-boy next to Michael paused, seemingly deciding his response, before closing his book slowly and sliding it to the front of Michael, without looking in his direction.

Michael took a chewed up, blue biro out of his bag and looked at the neat handwriting on the cover of the pupil's book.

 **Name** : _Ray Narvaez Jr._

 **Form** : _11-4_

 **Subject** : _Maths – Mr Burns_

Michael scrawled his own messy handwriting onto his own maths book as fast as he could before sliding Ray's book back to him.

"Thanks." Michael whispered. "Ray."

Ray turned his head cautiously, a dark chocolate fringe stopping half-way down his forehead, stuck slightly to the left, attempted facial hair scattered above and below his lips, growing more heavily under his chin.

' _What is with this school and fucking facial hair?'_

The bushy-eyebrowed male had glasses like Michael, but unlike the new student's eyewear, Ray's glasses were a lot wider and beaten up then his. A small crack was forming across the left of Ray's lense, clear-coloured tape wrapped tightly around the middle of the frame.

Michael allowed Ray's intelligent brown eyes to meet his own, Ray's button nose scrunching up as he smiled weakly, his broad glasses going slightly crooked. Michael returned the favour for the second time that day, deciding that Ray Narvaez Jr was someone he wanted to be friends with.

Maths surprisingly went faster than expected, and enough soon the bell had gone. beginning to wipe the whiteboard clean as people filed out of the classroom, most glancing at Michael as they left, whispering to each other about how the boy had been seen sitting with Gavin two periods before.

Ray stood up as Mr Burns left the room, the man smiling back at them as he left Ray and Michael alone together.

The scrawny teen stood up whilst Michael packed his bag, still seated, pulling his own black shoulder bag, that held an image of Scott Pilgrim shredding on a bright red electric guitar, onto his shoulder.

Ray paused for a moment after pushing in his chair, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Er, so, Michael."

Michael hummed a reply, standing up and pushing his own seat under the desk.

"I was thinking. Do you, um, want to eat with me and Lindsay?... I mean. I-if you want and stuff. Cause, like, if you want to eat with Gavin and all that lot, that's um, fine wi-"

Michael interrupted Ray's stutter with a smile. "I'd like that."

Ray face lit up as he replied. "Cool."

As the pair made their way down the stairs, the winding staircase beginning to feel like less of a struggle for Michael to conquer, even if he was going down it this time.

The two met up with Ray's friend outside the technology building, Michael learning the small building was named 'Sarge'.

Lindsey was a smiley, kind-hearted redhead that Michael soon caught on to being the centre of the two arrogant boy's conversation in his technology class. She had a messy fringe that stopped just above her eyes, whilst the rest of her hair finished just past the girl's shoulders.

When Michael asked her if she was a natural redhead, she replied cheerily that she tinted it herself, running a hand through her choppy locks.

Michael smiled weakly, having already decided pretty much straight away after their greeting that he liked Lindsay, who seemed bursting with energy and happy enough to meet him too.

The three went to the 'dining hall', as Ray and Lindsey called it, and ate their lunch together on a small round table, hidden at the back of the massive room, away from the bigger tables.

Michael stayed mainly quiet as the two talked, trying to involve Michael at points, but failing mostly due to to the boy's cautiousness to unimpressing people he knew next to nothing about.

The student took in information he thought would be useful in the future however, observing that Ray was a brony like himself, had a passion for video games and was "Shockingly Caucasian for a Puerto Rican" as Ray had joked. He found out from Lindsey that she shared the boy's interest in video games and lived very far away from the school, having to take three buses everyday to get here so she and Ray didn't really see each other that much during the weekends and after school.

The girl went on to bubbly say how instead they would chat over Xbox live and Skype, which sparked her into the idea of giving Michael her Skype name so they could stay in contact too.

The freckled teen didn't want to share much about himself, but after some interrogation, mostly on Lindsey's part, did crack slightly and told the two he just moved to England with his mother and that he would to join her, _and Ray_ , for some Halo over the Xbox.

Everything was going surprisingly well and Michael could feel himself beginning to feel better about the whole situation, until, of course, they left the safety of the dinner ladies and hot meals, leaving to wander down a half-full hallway.

"Oh! I just remembered!" Lindsay smiled sweetly, pulling both straps of her backpack forward slightly. "I have to go back to Sarge to finish up my woodwork for when Mrs. Ramsey comes back to class. I'll see you guys later!"

"Kay, see you later, Lindsey." Ray said in return as Lindsay skip-walked away from the pair, waving before disappearing out of a door in the opposite direction.

Ray turned to Michael as they trudged down the hall, scratching his cheek. "You don't talk much, huh, Michael?"

Michael snorted lightly.

' _Better to be unheard and out of trouble, then heard and in a pile of bullshit.'_

"Not much to say I guess." Michael lied, looking at the wall away from the Puerto Rican before changing the subject. "Where are we heading, anyway?"

"Oh, I thought we co-"

"MICHAEL!"A strong Oxford accent exploded from behind them as the _pat, pat, pat_ of footsteps caught up to the brown-eyed teens, the voice's grin vanishing as quickly as it came as soon as he saw who Michael was with.

Michael turned slightly, taking in the sight of the slightly huffing British boy front of him.

' _Great, just what I need; fucking Gavin Free.'_

A very attractive, petite blonde came slipping around the corner of the hall, jogging after Gavin. Her breathing desperate as it came out in noisy short gasps, back-combed, bleach-blonde hair jumping up and down against her heavily made-up face.

"Gaaaaviiiiiiiiiiin!" The girl yelled as she ran towards them. She pushed past a group of girls who were walking slowly together in a huddle, turning her head around sharply and hissing in spite at them for standing in her path. "Out of my way, _losers_."

The blonde slowed as she finally made her way to Gavin, leaning over. She placed tanned manicured hands on the front of her thighs, holding herself up as she continued to gasp in short bursts. "Quit- running- off- like- THAT!"

"Sorry, Barbie." Gavin said gravely, his expression rock solid as he glared between Ray and Michael.

' _What the hell is this dickhead's problem?'_ Michael thought, his eyebrows creased together.

The new pupil glanced beside him to see a nervous-looking Ray clutching his left arm tightly, his cheeks thawing out into a pale pink as he looked deliberately away from everyone in their sudden, makeshift group.

"Michael, why the hell are you with _faggot-_ boy?" Gavin made sure to deliberately emphasis the homophobic slur, his cold emerald eyes boring into Ray with a deep-set hatred.

Michael's eyes widened in realisation of Gavin sudden coldness, the emotion immediately boiling to anger, the boy having to bit his tongue to stop himself from cursing the taller student out right there.

The girl Gavin had named 'Barbie' had straightened herself up properly now, pushing up her hair further than it already was and blowing a cotton-candy coloured bubble from her glossed lips. Her narrowed eyes swept up and down Michael briefly as he decided his response to Gavin's question.

"I thought. You were eating. With, _me_." Gavin spoke before Michael, the redhead having missed his opportunity of speech.

Ray's pink cheeks heated into a red as he tried to ignore Gavin's cruel words, contemplating leaving as his presence was obviously not wanted or needed.

Gavin continued, his stance becoming more agitated. "I was looking for you all lunch and-"

"I never said I was eating with anyone, asshole." The words rushed from Michael's mouth before he could stop them, the defeated looking Ray fueling his rage. "And for the record I didn't eat with _'faggot-boy'_ , I ate with _Ray_."

Silence.

Michael's jaw dropped.

' _Did he just say that out loud?'_

Judging by the expressions on everyone's faces, the freckled student guessed he just did.

' _Oh,_ _fuck.'_

"Excuse me?" 'Barbie' began, putting her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side. "What the _fuck_ did you ju-"

"Shut up, Barbara." Gavin snapped, causing the blonde to flush peach under her matted foundation, stifling her words, instead scrunching up her nose in disgust towards Michael.

Barbara was pulled backwards before she could speak again, Gavin brushing past her frame and squaring up to Michael, who was, unfortunately, considerably smaller than him.

The lanky Brit towered over the other, a menacing glare staring down at Michael, putting himself face-to-face with the new pupil.

A crowd began to draw as Ray shuffled awkwardly away from Michael, helplessly sending looks of apology at the freckled boy. Michael didn't see them however, his attention on Gavin, who was currently invading his personal space.

Gavin chuckled darkly, catching the smaller offguard slightly.

"I think you misheard me, Michael." The messy-haired teen paused, not missing a beat. " _No-one_ eats with that freak unless you're a nobody."

"What's it got to do with you who I associate with?" Michael spoke calmly, refusing to let himself look away from Gavin's glare.

' _Michael what are you doing?!'_

Michael's mind was shrieking at him, but for once he switched off his reasoning, ignoring the sirens exploding in his head.

The taller boy lowered his voice, but kept it loud enough so that his words could be heard by everyone around them. "Do you even _know_ what people like him _do?"_

"Perfectly well." Michael hissed, every word dripping with venom as he spoke. "Considering I _am_ one."

' _MICHAEL JONES! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?'_

Gavin's eyes bulged in his sockets as he realised what the boy in front of him had just said, heat exploding across his face.

The morning's events rushed through the gangly boy's mind on a reel: calling Michael 'love', the lazy arm he put around the freckled boys shoulder on the way to Chemistry, how he had invited Michael to eat with him, telling the other about himself whilst had droned about the periodic table.

The decision was immediate and full of confused emotions as Gavin's eyelids narrowed hazardously. He grabbed Michael by the front of his blazer and threw him into the wall beside them, how could Gavin of been so _stupid_?

A trainer collided hard with Michael's ribs as the crowd around them split apart, giving them room, the audience growing louder and larger.

"Break his glasses!" Barbara suddenly cackled besides them, at the very front of the crowd.

Gavin blocked out the noise, the only sound he could hear being raw white noise as he shoved Michael upwards against the wall and punched him back down to the canvas flooring.

Michael looked up, dazed and in pain, blood starting to dribble down his chin from a bust lip.

"Better yet," Barbara continued to shriek maliciously. "Break his nose!"

Michael's vision was blurry as he became vaguely aware that his glasses had fallen from his face, images of his father flashing through his mind like daggers. He went limp, unable to defend himself, letting Gavin beat him like a ragdoll as the crowds cheers and screams echoed around his mind.

Michael couldn't fight back.

He could never fight back.

Ray watched helplessly before snapping back into reality and pushing past the gathering audience, setting off in a sprint down the hall. Most would have seen this as an act of cowardice and betrayal, but the motive behind Ray's speedy escape was one solely focused on helping the beaten redhead.

The petite boy ran into Joel on his journey so hard that he almost knocked both him, and the taller, to the ground in his haste.

"Ray?" Joel began as he caught the younger student.

Ray pushed past the sixth former, yelling back at him as he ran. "Sorry-Joel-can't-talk-explain-later-"

Joel was left stood alone in the hallway, dazed and confused.

~

A lone car traveled towards the school, interrupting Michael and Ray's walk home together in silence, the two having set off after the initial rush of school ending ten minutes before.

Michael limped slowly beside Ray, holding a school-issue icepack up to his beaten mouth.

"Thanks, Ray." Michael began, his mouth sore as he spoke. "If you hadn't brought when you did, I don't know what would have happened."

Ray returned the statement with a shrug. In all honesty the young boy with the broad and broken black glasses felt as if the whole situation was his fault from start to finish.

The silence dragged on, border lining becoming awkward.

"Looks like we've switched roles, huh?" The beaten teen joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Ray smiled weakly at his new friend, knowing full well tomorrow he was never going to hear the end of being the 's personal little pet fag. He opened his mouth to speak before closing it again, sighing.

"I'm sorry." Ray managed to get out, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking at the concrete.

Michael shook his head, replying after another long pause. "Don't be man. It's my fault for not keeping my fucking mouth shut."

The Puerto Rican smiled, the familiar sting of tear droplets scratching at the back of his eyes, threatening to pour over. "Thanks though, Michael."

Michael pulled a questioning expression at Ray and stopped walking.

Ray sighed again , also stopping and scratching the back of his head.

The teen took a deep breath before looking upwards and smiling. "You're, one of the only people who has ever stuck up for-, well-,"

' _...'_

There was a silence before Ray continued. "Me."

Michael felt emotion hit the back of his throat; what Ray had just said suddenly made all his stupid actions and the painful consequences worth every hit he had received.

"Anytime." Michael breathed, letting out a long breath he didn't realise he had been holding in.

A second car up drove down the road behind the standing pair, pulling up beside them. The tires of the vehicle drove slightly onto the curb as a dirty window slowly rolled down to reveal a bored looking Joel.

"Need a lift?" Joel questioned, smiling weakly at the pair who were stood in the mercy of the quickly setting sun.

Michael was about to deny the offer before Ray skipped forward, gripping the metal of the car and placing a gentle kiss on Joel's cheek, speaking with the most confidence Michael had seen him with all day. "Sounds great."

The ride home was a mixture of awkward and amusement as Michael sat himself in the back of Joel's car, quietly listening to Joel and Ray's discussion on what movie they should go and see at the weekend.

' _I think Joel is going to end up being forced to see that disney movie.'_ Michael decided after Ray kept pushing forward his choice of 'Tangled'.

Ray kept turning slightly throughout his conversation, making sure Michael was okay with Joel's presence, his actions unknown to Michael who gazed out of the window for most of the journey, frowning.

The atmosphere remained in this semi-awkward state for the rest of the drive, before Michael spoke up that this was his stop, Joel stopping the car and letting Michael out.

Ray called the limping boy a goodbye through the passenger window, which Michael returned, looking up with tired eyes at his new apartment building.

Michael dragged his feet behind him lazily as he slowly made his way down a gravel pathway towards his new home, wincing with every step but willing himself to reach the complex so he could finally lay down and sleep.

It wasn't the most fancy place he'd ever seen, but it was a hell lot better than the piece of shit he used to live in back in New Jersey: the carpets were mostly clean and coloured a deep velvet red, the netting visible in some patches, fraying the worst at the edges of the flooring. The walls, Michael had noted on first arrival, were a creamy colour, with the wallpaper peeling slightly here and there on closer inspection. Mailboxes were glued to one of the walls on inside the building, the cracking light blue paint of them standing out against the already bizarre interior design.

So yes, Michael was happy enough to call this place home, and still couldn't believe he wouldn't ever have to climb 13 flights of stairs everyday to reach a shitty apartment ever again.

The 16-year-old's fingers dragged over the elevator button for floor number 4, Michael using the time to lean against the wall as he waited.

' _Ray and Joel, huh?'_

Michael smirked to himself, _that_ was something he certainly wasn't expecting, occupying his mind away from the pain in his side as the elevator dinged it's arrival, Michael thanking God that no one was in there to see him in this state.

Reaching his door and opening it with a deep sigh of relief, Michael had to admit it was one of the best feelings he had experienced all day as he made his way indoors, clicking the door carefully behind him.

"I'm home." Michael called, kicking off his sneakers and hobbling towards his kitchen, where his mum was stood facing away from him, elbow deep in a washing up bowl.

"Oh, Michael!" The woman peeled off sunny rubber gloves, bustling around to face her son, a smile gracing his features. "How was your day?"

She froze suddenly at the sight of Michael's battered body, her pink lips changing to form an 'O'.

Michael weighed up what would be the best response to give his mother in this situation, and decided that from all that had happened to him today, honesty was ending up being the best policy.

He looked his mother straight in the face and sighed.

"Shit."


	2. Who the hell is Dan Gruchy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After he stood on the stand against his violent father on charges of assault and rape, a broken 16-year-old Michael Jones, alongside his mother, have been placed under witness protection and moved to a small town called RoosterTeeth in the South-East of England, things seem to be looking up and Michael is enrolled in the local school Achievement Hunters High. However Achievement Hunters is ending up to be just another headache for Michael, it’s week one and he's already having to deal with a certain drunken head teacher ruling over the place without a care in the world, people teaching him classes he's one hundred percent sure aren't qualified and some asshole called Gavin who seems to have picked Michael as his newest victim.

The sun was beating down hard onto the PE students of Achievement Hunter High on an unusually hot Spring morning, and things were not going a certain freckled student's way.

' _I fucking hate sport.'_

Michael stumbled slightly as he ran down the track, marked into the grass by large white strips of paint, angrily panting at his unfitness.

The large field, that Michael was currently being forced to drag himself around, was hidden just behind the school and stretched out for at least half the distance of the entire school grounds. It was etched off into various different sections, however, and had a massive island-like group of trees sitting in the middle.

Michael glanced up to see that the boys who he was competing against were far ahead, seeming to effortlessly sprint over the finish line while Michael desperately trudged on, ignoring the dull ache of pain that still ran through parts of his body. He pushed to the back of his mind the fact that the pain currently resonating in his thighs wasn't made by a school bully, as much as Michael would have prefered that.

The freckled teen had currently been at this school for a couple of weeks and Michael thought that, besides the incident he had encountered on his first day, he was settling in pretty well.

' _If it wasn't for this fucking lesson._ '

Reaching the end of the track Mr. Jones patted him on the back, a wide grin spread across his face as he knocked up a hat that sat over his messy dark hair. "Good job, Michael, not many students are willing to do the 1500 meters for their team."

Michael nodded wearily as the teacher wandered off to another student, the redhead's expression unamused. He sighted Ray who was sat on the ground under the trees and began to trudge towards him, reaching the shade in next to no time.

Ray looked upwards and smirked, nudging the grass gently with the scuffed end of his trainer, holding out his water bottle for his friend. "Yes, Michael, not many people are willing to do the 1500 for their team."

"Fuck you, Ray." Michael huffed, snatching the bottle from his hand and throwing himself on the ground beside his new friend.

Michael's participation hadn't been one of consent but more of one of force. He pushed himself upwards into a sitting position; his glasses skewered. Bringing the bottle to his lips Michael glanced sideways as he drank, the focus of his glare on a group of boys who had forced him into the race, Michael not wanting to catch their eye.

The freckled boy dropped the bottle back at their feet, scratching the back of his neck, still grumbling. "I still don't understand why the hell you're not doing it."

"Well, y'know, back problems, man." Ray retorted, re-picking up his water, uncapping the lid and taking a swig.

Michael rolled his eyes. "More like Joel fucking you too hard."

The shorter teen's face exploded into a dark red hue as he spluttered water over himself, coughing wildly.

"You asshole-" Ray managed to choke out, his brown eyes a mixture of humour and embarrassment as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Michael grinning mischievously at his state.

"You know that shit's true though."

Ray barked out a laugh.

"'Course, man, I have the wildest sex wit-" Ray's smile immediately dropped, his eyes wide, burning with fear, transfixed on something behind Michael's presence. "He's back."

Michael eyebrows knitted together in confusion at Ray's words as he whipped his own head around to face the direction of his friend's gaze to see two figures walking towards them in the distance. The redhead squinted at them, making out the younger of the two to being a tall, well-built teen, striding towards the group in a Achievement Hunter's polo shirt and shorts, a smaller, grey-haired PE teacher, that Michael didn't recognize, trailing behind him.

Still confused, Michael turned back to Ray with a question. "Who's he?"

Michael was taken aback slightly by the other's state.

Ray was sat in utter terror, his once half-full water bottle laid forgotten next to him in the grass, liquid leaking rapidly into the mud. The tanned boy's cheek, moment's ago full of life, were rapidly draining in colour as the mysterious duo made their way closer and closer to the track.

Michael looked towards the other teen's direction slightly, waving a hand slowly in front of Ray's face, forcing the boy to blink rapidly and avert his eyes from staring.

Michael lowered his hand. "Ray? Are you okay?"

The Puerto Rican returned the question with a swallow, hazily meeting Michael gaze.

"Seriously, who the fuck is he?" Michael continued, eyebrows creased.

"It's Dan." Ray murmured, his voice barely heard, even through the silence around them.

Michael scrunched up his nose.

"Dan? What are you getting so worked up for?" He jerked his head towards the group of boys off to his left. "If he's just one of those assholes we can just igno-"

"Michael, you don't understand." Ray interrupted him, his voice was low, panic lacing his every word. "He's _Daniel Gruchy_. Gavin's best friend since primary- and believe me, you don't _know_ pain until you've been beaten up by Dan _._ "

' _I think I do'_

The Jersey boy kept his thoughts to himself, eyes widened as he let Ray continue in hushed tones. "He got suspended for a month for beating the old head boy, Ryan, so bad that he was hospitalised and moved to a different school- Ryan was one of the strongest people I knew, Michael. He _destroyed_ him."

The boy was closer now, his appearance becoming clearer with each step he took; raven-coloured hair stuck upwards above thick eyebrows that framed his eyes, patchy stubble covering the bottom parts of his face.

"Daniel!" Mr Jones called, bounding past the tree in which the two boy's took shade under, going towards the approaching pair. Michael's attention averted from Dan's appearance to the conversation that was about to start. "I see you're back from suspension."

Dan grunted in response, sliding his hands into the rim of his shorts.

Mr. Jones simply shot a friendly smiled, looking past the Dan's broad shoulders to the smaller man, standing behind the black-haired teen. "Thank-you for escorting him, Mr. Free."

' _Mr. Free? Wait, like_ _ **Gavin**_ _Free?! Is that Gavin's_ _ **dad**_ _?!_ '

"No problem, Sir." The man replied curtly with a nod before patting Dan on the back, tucking his hands behind his back and swiftly turning on his heels to walk away.

Michael's jaw dropped as the man began to walk back towards the school buildings, his brown irises following the grey-haired man whilst he grabbed Ray by the shoulder harshly and begun to shake him vigorously, echoing his thoughts. "Did he just say Mr. _Free_?! Like Gavin _-_ fucking- _Free_?!"

Ray attempted to steady himself, his glasses ricketing on his face as he shook forcefully. "Yes Michael. Why'd you think he gets away with all the shit he pulls? He's head of PE and not to mention the Deputy of the school."

Michael stopped his hand, realisation clicking into place. "Oh."

"Yeah 'oh', now, if you wouldn't mind removing your hand from my shoulder, asshole." Ray drawled in a sarcastic tone, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the situation. He lifted his hand lazily to knock Michael's arm away.

Michael continued to ponder briefly, abrupt movement catching the teen's attention in the corner of his eye. It rose upwards and began to travel towards him. Sixteen years of living with his father had given Michael sharp senses and reactions, that without, he wasn't sure he'd even be alive today.

' _No!'_

The instinct and panic of his time in that New Jersey apartment flooded through the auburn haired boy's system like an icy river as he immediately drew back his hand to shield his face.

"I'm sorry!" The words blurted from Michael's lips before he could stop them, heat rushing to his face almost immediately, the teen realising what he had done.

Ray sat in front of him, his facial expression a mixture of confusion and worry while his hand froze at his own shoulder.

"Michael...?" Ray wavered for a moment, his tone incredulous. "Did you think I was going to _hit_ you?"

 

~

' _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.'_

Michael grumbled inwardly to himself as he shoved his already rugged english book into his bag, tired eyes flickering up to the clock.

It was the end of period five and the class were stood behind their seats, light blue, plastic chairs placed on the tables in front of them so the cleaners could get under the tables easier when the bell finally rang.

Personally, Michael thought the layout of the room was completely stupid, with most of the two-seater tables forming the outside of a 'C' around the room, with four more tables placed together in pairs in the center to form four-seater tables.

Mr. Pattillo was stood at the door of the classroom impatiently, glancing at the clock repeatedly and crossing his arms, irate and obviously wanting the bell to chime. Michael smiled inwardly at him.

Michael's english teacher was more of a kid than the class at times and his age could only be deciphered by his overgrowing mass of beard that blended into his ginger hair.

The bell rang bang at 3:35, the burly man storming towards the already open door, calling over his shoulder at the rest of the class as he strode. "Bye guys! Have a nice weekend!"

' _I'll try._ '

Michael sighed, pulling the strap of his shoulder bag over his head, recalling how he'd promised his mother that this weekend he'd help her unload the last of the boxes they'd left piling up the living room.

The redhead waited until the classroom was empty before making his way out, trudging down the hall, his footsteps echoing in the once bustling hallway.

A buzzing from the teen's trouser pocket caught his attention, and Michael stopped for a moment, pulling out his phone to see a message from Ray:

**16th April 2013 - 3:39PM**

**Ray: getting a lift with joel, wanna join us?**

Michael rolled his eyes, he liked Ray, he really did, but his occasional car rides with Ray and his beloved boyfriend were nothing but awkward.

His fingers flew over the keyboard quickly as he responded:

**You: Yup. Sounds good. Meet you at the front?**

The phone buzzed in his hands.

**Ray: Yeah**

Michael locked the screen and shoved the device back into his pocket, taking a left towards a fire exit he had discovered that students used as a shortcut. A familar voice laughed loudly behind him, muffled at first before turning louder as a classroom door opened into the corridor.

"I tell you, Gav, I did nothing but sit on my arse the entire time playing Halo. Would been alright if my mum had stopped bloody nagging at me."

Another choking laugh came from the second, known, voice. "That's all bitches know how to do though, right, Dan?"

"Yeah." The first voice replied, joining in on the laughter.

The freckled boy froze, the voices were getting closer.

' _Go. Michael the door's right there. Fucking go!_ '

Michael forced one foot in front of another quickly, pushing open the fire escape and making his way down the concrete path towards the car park, clutching the strap of his bag with white knuckles.

 

~

The weekend came and went speedily, and once again Michael found himself stood in front of his new bathroom mirror: washing his face, brushing his teeth, fiddling with his tie, and sighing into his own reflection as his mother snored peacefully from the other room.

Dragging his bare feet through the living room carpet and onto the kitchen tile, Michael piled books from the counter into his school bag and threw it over his shoulder carelessly, glancing at the clock. It glared at back him with fast ticking, late numbers, Michael threw open a cupboard door, shoving a bagel into his mouth while struggling to put on his sneakers.

' _Ah fuck, Ray's gonna be waiting for me._ '

Wrestling with his right sneaker whilst hopping on his left foot, Michael felt the world fall to a side, causing him to trip and fall to the floor, his breakfast still in his mouth. The bready substance lodged into his windpipe, causing him to cough and splutter, spitting the bagel to the floor.

The raw feeling in the back of his throat caused the New Jerseyan's head to spin as memories crashed into his mind.

...

" _Who'd of guessed it? Fat little Michael Jones is a faggot as well as a failure." A figure growled, towering above Michael's young body. The man grabbed him by the shoulder roughly and pushed him down onto the dirty laminate floor._

" _Please- I'm sor-" Pain whipped across the redheads face, his father's back-hand stifling his plea._

 _The man lowered his voice, bringing his face closer to his son's. "You're gonna know the meaning of_ **fag** _when I'm done with your ass, you worthless whore."_

_Michael sat silently, crying in protest, tears streaming over his pale cheeks and dribbling onto the floor as his father unbent his knee and stood, the sound of a zipper resonating around the room._

_The freckled boy squeezed his eyes shut, a violent hand tangling into his messy roots and forcing his face towards the man's crotch._

…

Sobbing woke up Emma Jones from her slumber, her bedroom slowly becoming clearer through her sleepy eyes, pupils becoming wide as she recognized the cry; it was Michael.

Kicking the covers from her body she hurried out of the room to be faced with her son laid on the kitchen floor in a ball, crying into himself. Vicious shaking sobs were ricocheting through the boy as he tried to stop himself from making noise, blocking his mouth with his hand.

"Oh, sweetie." She breathed, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around the sobbing boy's body, pulling him onto her lap. Michael turned, wrapping his arms around his mother's shoulders in comfort. He broke down, weeping loudly into her neck as she rubbed his back gently in small circles, soothing him with soft, hushed words.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay. Let it all out." Michael's mother pressed a kiss to his forehead, carefully pushing his hair out of his eyes with her hand. "He's not going to hurt us anymore, Mikey. He's not going to hurt you. We're safe, honey, we're safe."

Michael's wail began to slowly subside into soft snivels as she rocked him backwards and forwards lightly, now stroking the back of his hair.

"Shall we go back to bed, sweetie?" Emma whispered, cradling her son's cheek against her own.

Michael's reply was a weak nod and sniff, choking out a final sob as his mother lifted him to his feet with frail arms, leading the pair back to her bed.

The high schooler's shoulder bag and bagel were left forgotten on the yellow-coloured floor, alongside the memory of a waiting Ray.

Outside, under the dreary morning sky, Ray stood alone, just outside the entrance to Michael's apartment building, shuffling from one shaky foot to the other. He glanced at his iPhone screen which currently showed three messages sent from Ray to Michael with no replies.

Sighing upwards at his new friend's apartment room one last time, Ray fiddled with the bottom of his untucked shirt before turning slowly and walking down the now studentless road towards school by himself.

The lone student arrived at the gate of Hunters High half way through form time.

Picking up his pace Ray mowed down the familiar concrete pathway towards Church, biting the bottom of his lip worriedly, wrapping both hands around the bottom of his bag's strap.

"Hey, poof."

Ray stopped dead in his tracks at the voice, a shallow breath entering his body.

"Long time no see, huh? Raymond?"

Turning his head slowly to look over his shoulder Ray was met with the only people he had ever hated in his entire life; Dan Gruchy.

The well-built student was stood close to the gate, blowing smoke from his nostrils, his smirk growing wider as Ray's eye's met his own. Next to him, Gavin was slumped against the brick wall, his own cigarette clasped in his mouth, evil humour dancing in his eyes. His was slung arm around Barbara's shoulders as she took a smoke from Gavin's packet, igniting it with a transparent lighter.

Dan spoke again, flicking ash onto the grassy floor. "Y'know Ray, I really missed my favourite little twink during my time away."

The boy's grin grew wider as Gavin and Barbara cackled beside him.

Ray swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing nervously in his throat.

Pretending to hold his head high, the boy's focus moved from Dan, back to the school. He carried on walking, trying to ignore the swishing feeling of horror in his stomach.

"Where are you going, Raymond?" Dan pushed himself off the rough brick wall, as the sky began to drizzle, fleck of water embedding into his coal-coloured locks.

Ray continued to walk away from the group, unspeaking.

"You're going to miss all the fun! We were just about braid our faggy hair and talk about who all the hot boys are." Slowly walking behind the other, Dan took a second drag from his butt, blowing it upwards into the rainy morning sky.

Dan's voice was dripped in a cruel sarcastic acid, the laughter behind him twisting the knife already penetrating Ray's side. "Oh wait, how could I forget? Joel's the only one for you, right?"

Terror pushed up Ray's windpipe, heat flushing under his hazel coloured eyes. The scrawny boy's feet forcefully brought him to a sudden halt again.

"Oh. I am sorry, Raymond. Was I not supposed to know who you were sausage squashing?"

Dan had reached Ray now. He pulled the shorter teen around harshly, Ray's body beginning to unwillingly shudder under Dan's cruel stare, his eyes hidden below his lashes.

With a smirk still pulling at the sides of his mouth, Dan cupped Ray's face with his free hand, cocking his head to a side.

Gavin saw his stance and pulled away from Barbara's grasp, beginning his own stride towards the two.

"OI!" Someone boomed from the front of school, the owner of the voice storming down the few steps at the front towards the students. "What on earth do you four think you are doing out of form time?!"

Dan jumped back from Ray, dropping his smoke behind him and crushing it with his heel, Gavin and Barbara echoing his actions, all wide eyed having being caught.

Ray's shoulders dropped in relief as Mrs Ramsey scolded them. Her bleach blonde hair tied just in two bunches just under her pierced ears with a silver septum piercing to match. Her slim arms were littered with intricate tattoos as she stood, hands on her hips, in a worn-out lab coat with ripped sleeves.

The angry woman scrunched her nose. "Are those cigarettes I smell?"

"No, ma'am." Dan immediately responded, his smirk having long dissipated. He looked behind him briefly to see Gavin's expression was stony, a bored-looking Barbara walking towards the situation.

"I cannot believe this! Day one back from my maternity leave and I'm already having to deal with you guys and your bloody crap!" The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "Get to form. Now."

Ray's tormentor pushed past him towards the building, whispering lowly in his ear as he passed the scrawny boy. "We'll finish this a lunch, fag."

Gavin frowned to himself as Dan turned away from him, the rain becoming heavier, masking his facial expression from weary eyes. His irises slid over to Ray whose head was lowered as he trudged after the boy Gavin called his closest companion.

Peering backwards, the gangly Brit watched as Barbara hurriedly reached him, squealing stupidly about the rain ruining her styled hair.

Gavin forced a laughing smile at her before turning back around and rolling his eyes, his amusement dropping.

Ray had reached the under hanging of the large building at this point, muttering an apology to the technology teacher before him, tear droplet's still threatening to arise at the corners of his eyes.

Mrs Ramsey's own sea-foam coloured eyes softened kindly, knowing Ray's situation. She squeezed his arm gently and told him not to worry about it and to hurry to form before first period started.

The boy cracked a tiny smile before brushing past her and entering into Church hastily.

Reaching Gavin speedily, Barbara laced her fingers with his, covering the top of her head with her handbag as she dragged the boy behind her. "Hurry up, Gavin! This rain is ruining my make-up!"

Reaching Mrs. Ramsey, who was still stood with arms crossed and lips in a straight line, Barbara moved the tanned leather hand-bag from her head and rested it back to the inside of her elbow.

"I expect this behaviour from the boys, Barbara, but not from you." Mrs. Ramsey began sternly, looking between the two of them, uncrossing her arms. "What would your parents say if they found out about what you've been up to, hm?"

Gavin sighed inwardly behind Barbara, pushing his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

The petite girl pursed her glossed lips, raising an eyebrow, putting a hand on her left hip and moving so that all of her weight rested on her left side.

"They'd probably tell me to act more like my loser of a sister, Lindsay." She spat, narrowing her eyes at the older woman before flicking her hair and pulling on her skirt. "C'mon, Gav, let's go."

"No, Barbara," Mrs. Ramsey, interrupted. "Off _you_ go. I need to have a little chat with Gavin first."

"Fine." The girl retorted, her voice teetering on the tone of forced politeness, holding her stance.

"Alone."

Barbara huffed loudly and rolled her eyes, her voice taking a menacing turn. "Why should I? Gavin's _my_ boyfriend. I don't see why he needs to keeping having 'chats' with teachers' like-"

The teacher opened her mouth, about to scold the teen on her attitude, Gavin interrupting her before she could begin.

"Just _go_ to form, Barbie." Gavin spoke with a sudden malice, his voice low but commanding.

The young girl bit on the insides of her cheeks in frustrated silence.

Mrs. Ramsey closed her mouth, simply looking at the girl with raised eyebrows and matching Gavin's unamused expression.

"Fine." Barbara hissed before stomping her heel and storming through the school doors, her bag knocking off her slim torso as she strutted away.

 

~

The pitter-patter of rain bouncing off the windshield was the only noise heard as Michael's mother killed the ignition.

The frail woman glanced upwards, letting out a worried sigh and adjusting the car mirror as she spoke. "Are you sure you want to go in, Michael?"

"Yes, mom."

"We can go spend the rest of the day at home." She paused. "You don't have to do this."

Silence.

"Mom, I'll be fine."

The mother's face turned sharply. "Michael."

The teen kicked under the dashboard gently with a scuffed toe.

"Michael." A hand reached over and laid on Michael's shoulder, bitten nails squeezing him carefully. "Honey, look at me."

Michael turned his head, letting his mother brush a hand under his chin.

"Are you _sure_?"

"Mom. I'll be _fine_." The young boy brushed his mother's touch from his face, reverting back to looking at his laces while he slide out of the car.

Ignoring the calls from his mother, Michael began running towards the school gate, pulling up the hood on his new jacket and shielding his face from the rain. He struggled to keep upright as he speed along the slippery concrete, taking a sharp right towards the Music Block, the rain darkening the wooden fence that ran along the path to the small building.

Pulling open the door handle with both hands, Michael was met with a hallway full of bags placed there by students who had entered through the corridor into the assembly hall that connected the music facilities to Church Dining Hall, where the dinner queue formed every lunch time.

He pulled down his hood and began to search up and down the black carpet, strangely decorated with strips of rough sided velcro. He looked intently for Lindsay's badge-covered rucksack and Ray's Scott Pilgrim shoulder bag, only to be met with handbags, plain coloured Gola bags and Adidas backpacks.

' _Where the fuck are they?_ ' Michael thought.

The redhead's water-speckled black frames went slightly lop-sided as he scrunched his pale-coloured nose. He checked his phone, lunch had started 10 minutes ago, they should have gone in by now, seeing unread messages the boy swiped open his inbox.

**19th April 2013 - 8:22AM**

**Ray: dude i'm here, lets go**

**Ray: michael hurry the fuck up it's gonna rain and i'm cold**

**Ray: michael?**

Guilt wriggled in the brown-eyed boy's gut as he replied.

**19th April 2013 - 12:43PM**

**You: Sorry Ray I was at the dentist. Forgot to tell you. Sorry if you're mad.**

**You: Where are you and Linds? I'm all alone in the music block. ):**

Michael took his glasses from his face, wiping them roughly on the dark-blue fabric of his hoodie, contemplating where to start looking first.

' _Might as well start in Sarge.'_

He sighed to himself, pulling up his hood again and digging clenched fists into the jacket's front pockets. He pushed the busty glass door with his shoulder and began jogging to the technology building.

Cutting through Church for as much shelter as possible, Michael was met yet again with the downpour, trying to ignore the wetness that was seeping through his flimsy jacket and onto his uniform. Reaching the building the boy didn't bother lowering his hood as he stepped inside.

Michael walked down the hallway and soon found himself gazing through mesh covered glass to 's woodwork studio, not that Michael had ever met Mrs Ramsey, and he was pretty sure he wouldn't even know her name if it wasn't for Lindsay. He ended up being greeted by a empty room, the stools all stacked the end of the classroom with all traces of pupils gone.

_'Where else could they have fucked off to?!'_

Michael rubbed the left side of his face, his glasses riding up against the back of his hand.

_'Maybe the library?'_

The teen headed towards the Caboose's entrance this time, pulling the hoodie tighter over his head. He jogged this time to the English department's building, where his form room resided in, to check the library for his friends.

Michael reached the library quite quickly, the hallways holding very few students. He was about to step through the threshold before he was stopped by a sixth former who helped out there.

"No bags or coats in the library." The older year smiled kindly, her slim stature easily over towering Michael's. She had shoulder length, chocolate coloured hair that protruded outwards in ringlets, too tiny to not be natural, with slim hands that sat on either side of her athletic form.

"Oh, er, sorry." The redhead looked away from the girl, fiddling with his feet, his wet trainer's sole squeaking against the polished floor.

_'All I want to do is fucking look in, Jesus Christ.'_

"No problem, just remember in future, 'kay?" The taller sighed; still smiling brightly as her shoulders raised and fell. She turned mumbling to herself as she headed back inside, Michael managing to catch her words. "To be honest I'm getting sick of telling everyone..."

' _Bitch.'_

Michael rolled his eyes and zipped open his jacket hastily, throwing it over one of the many shelves drilled to the walls that sat outside, on each side of the library's double doors.

Entering the library, Michael was met with mostly younger years, sat in groups around different tables, although he could see a couple of year ten's in the back doing their artwork. He walked around a long line of bookshelves to the row of computers where Ray and Michael usually sat when they weren't eating or hanging out with Lindsay in Sarge.

Year eights and sevens filled up the rows, with a single computer free at the very end of the row.

The teen bit the inside of his cheek, he was so confused, where the hell could they be?

_'Maybe they're both ill.'_

Michael chewed the flesh of his cheek between his back teeth gently, stood awkwardly by himself.

_'Maybe Lindsay, but Ray came to pick me up, remember.'_

The boy turned to the librarians desk, a blonde girl he recognized from his maths class was sat behind the one side of the round desk, flicking aimlessly on her ipod. She was chatting idly with the 'bitch' who had stopped Michael from entering with his stuff, the sixth former laughed at something the younger said, leaning against the strong wood, supporting herself with the palms of her hands.

"QUIET! THIS IS A LIBRARY, NOT A PLAYGROUND!" Mrs Burton suddenly yelled from behind the desk, shocking Michael out of his thoughts.

She was sat opposite the two young girls with her back facing away from them. Her rather, _generous_ , body shape, was sat on a chair that was a little too small for her bodyweight, on the 'taking out books' side of the wooden barrier.

Michael only knew her name due to horror stories Ray had told him about her scolding _Gavin_ to near tears on their first day of school in...

_'Fifth grade? No, wait, year seven.'_

Deciding he was too lazy to carry on the hunt for his friends, Michael approached the fair-haired girl, to ask for a computer slot.

_'Lunch without food or socialisation. Wow, I live the high school life to the fucking fullest.'_

 

_~_

' _I swear to God, I am going to piss myself if I don't find an open toilet soon.'_

The bell rang loudly in Michael's ears as he stood outside the male toilets of Caboose, the large lettering of "OUT OF ORDER" scrawled scruffily on an A4 sheet of lined paper. It seemed, to Michael at least, to be mocking him and his weak bladder.

The teen turned, accidently knocking into some tiny year sevens on his way, mumbling an apology under his breath and storming out of the building to detour to Church toilets before he would have to going to maths.

The rain had now slowed to a gentle patter and the freckled boy didn't even bother pulling up his hood, easily making the short distance between the buildings before his hair got any wetter than it already was.

The toilets in the maths department building were isolated and dirtier than the others around school, not that Michael particularly cared about how clean the porcelain he was peeing up against was.

Reaching a urinal Michael swung his bag behind him, the main part of the bag hitting the small of his back as he parted his legs, wiggling with his trouser's fly down and letting out a long sigh as he relieved himself.

The teen quickly finished, re-zipping his black, loose fitting trousers, and bringing his bag back round to his front. He was just turning to leave before a voice caught his attention.

"This is what happens when you're a dirty little faggot, you cunt."

Michael didn't recognize it, but definitely recognized the snickering of one of the boys, hidden within the laughter of an obviously quite large group that followed.

The lad paused, looking towards the stalls at the back that were hidden behind a wall in the centre of the room where the urinals and their piping clung to the gritty tile.

He heard a toilet flush, followed by more laughter and splashing before desperate gasping entered Michael's ears.

"Please... I..." Ray's voice travelled from behind the urinal wall, Michael's eyes narrowed in anger, before his face contorted in fear.

"Shut up, fag."

"Flush him again, Dan."

The deepest voice laughed cruelly. "Pull the chain, Gav."

"Yeah, o-okay." Gavin's voice wobbled slightly, but he covered over it with another laugh, the sound of metal being tugged against hardened clay ripping through Michael eardrums.

_'What the fuck I do?! I can't just leave him!'_

Sweat began to form under Michael's brow mixing with the damp rain that dripped from his hair. Ge glanced towards the exit.

_'I could go get help...'_

The sound of gasping and splashing causing him to turn around again, taking a shaky breath Michael made his decision.

_'I can't just leave him.'_

Michael stealthy creeped closer to the edge of the wall and crouched, peeking around the side of the gritty tile to see who he was up against.

Two lads Michael remembered Gavin introducing him to on the first day in science were stood either side of the wooden booth.

Dan was stood in the centre of them knelt over, one strong hand clasped over Ray's thin wrists behind his bony back, whilst the other was firmly planted of the young Puerto Rican's neck, holding his face into the seatless toilet.

Ray's top half was blocked from Michael's view, with Michael only managing to catch a glimpse of Gavin stood inside the toilet booth, a hand wrapped around the toilet's chain.

Ray's bag had been ransacked, his books scattered across the bathroom's floor, some soaking up water as it steadily poured from the overflowing toilet.

Michael fell backwards, trying to steady his breathing, keeping it as quiet as possible.

There was four, _four_ , how on earth was he suppose to save Ray from four obviously stronger students?

He looked towards the bathroom exit again, about to change his mind and go ask a teacher for help before Ray's desperate words stopped him again. "Please...You- you can take my money, I- I-"

"We don't want your money, Raymond. God knows where it's been." Dan spat, pushing the frail teen's head back under the flushing water, chuckling at his own joke, before looking upwards expectantly at Gavin who immediately started laughing too, not that Michael saw that.

Sucking at the inside of his right cheek, the teen took the flesh in between his teeth and chewed hard until he tasted blood.

Michael stood up, dropping his bag to the mucky floor and rolling up his jacket's sleeves.

' _Fuck it, let's do this_.'

He strode towards the smallest boy, quietly but speedily. He threw himself forward at him, Michael's entire weight being thrown at the other, sending both Michael and the boy he was crushing forward, hitting the other nameless boy with double the force, causing all three of them to crash to the grotty floor in a tangled collision.

Dan let go of Ray's body in shock.

The slim boy took the opportunity to pull his face from the bowl of the toilet water, crawling under Dan's legs and scrambling to his feet, panting for air, eyes wide.

Gavin stood in awe, mouth open, taking in the scene before him.

Dan picked up Michael from the mess of boys on the floor, grabbing his collar and slamming him against the hand dryers, the metal digging harshly into the boy's soft back, causing him to call out in pain. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

Michael simply looked up at Dan with fearful eyes, his adrenaline slowly evaporating and the well-built boy's expression darkened, along with his voice. "Gavin. Do you know who this piece of shit is?"

Gavin swallowed stepping out of the booth, the lads that were momentarily on the floor were now on their feet, both moving away from Dan and Gavin.

"I..." Gavin looked at Michael and then back to Ray at the floor, his expression soft, his eyes locking with Ray who was pleading at him with his sullen eyes. "Well I-"

"Yes or No?" The dark-haired boy snapped at his friend, his fist curling at his side.

"Yes."

"And?"

The lanky teen's face hardened. "He's the poof I was telling you about, B."

Gavin immediately regretted the words as soon as they'd left his mouth, he'd already had it out with Michael and to be honest, he still didn't really know where he was in the whole situation.

Ear piercing silence was shared between everyone in the bathroom as Gavin contemplated and Dan made his decision.

"Alright then." The large Brit nodded, letting go of Michael's shirt and turning around, lifting two open palms in front of him.

The redhead stayed quiet, his heart in his throat as Dan spoke again. "Best deal with it properly then."

With that Dan turned around swiftly and punched Michael square in the face, his glasses knocked from his face as he fell to the floot. Ray reached out toward him slightly before drawing his hand back, frozen in fear.

"Don't just stand there then!" Dan yelled at the group of standing students, pulling up Michael by his curly hair and throwing him towards the opposite end of the room to Ray.

Gavin gave his other two friends a warning look, both of them nodding and going went to Ray, leaving Gavin stood in the centre of the mess, alone.

"B!" Dan snapped, whirling round to Gavin. "Are we gonna teach this fucker not to mess with me- us- or what!?"

"Dan, you know I don't beat on people unless they fucked with me." Gavin spoke gravely, kicking Ray's English book along the tiled floor. "Besides, why the hell is Ray getting beat too, he didn't attack Ben."

Dan straightened up; Michael powerlessly slumped on the floor, a fresh brush already appearing on his face. "Don't tell me you've gone fucking soft, B."

Silence.

Even the boys stood over a cowering Ray stopped their kicking to turn towards Dan's dangerous tone, mouths open.

Gavin stood his ground.

"I cannot fucking believe this." The strong teen laughed maliciously. "Gavin Free. _The_ Gavin Free is telling me to stop beating on some homo."

Gavin just stared back, shoving both hands into his pockets.

Dan shook his head at his friend. "Oh, Come on Gav, why are you even bothering with these losers?"

"I just ain't in the mood is all." Gavin murmured the excuse lamely, looking downward and kicking another of Ray's books across the floor.

Dan stormed closer to Gavin, a hazardous finger pointing in his face, making the weaker boy meet his cutting gaze. "That is fucking bullshit, and you know it."

"Oh, shove off."

The raven-haired boy's face contorted in fury. He yelled out in sudden anger, raising a hand to hit Gavin before changing his mind, turning around to punch the dry wall instead, the paint flaking away immediately until his fist, causing a dent in the plaster.

He turned to his best friend and spat at his feet. "Fucking homo-lover."

With those spiteful words ringing in Gavin's eardrums painfully, Dan stormed away, kicking Michael one last time in the gut before leaving.

The scruffy brown-haired boy huffed loudly, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Er, Gavin?" Ben spoke warily, glancing at his taller friend.

"Just go to your bloody lesson." Gavin snapped, looking out of the high bathroom windows.

"Are you sur-"

"JUST GO- to lesson, Ben." Gavin whirled around to face them, running two hands over his scalp. "I'll be _fine_."

Ben and his other friend shared a glance before leaving the two beaten boys and Gavin alone in the bathroom, both walking past Ray, who flinched meekly as they passed, neither of them sparing him a glance.

Gavin's gaze went over to Michael, who looked upwards at him in confusion and pain. He walked towards the redhead, crouching down to his level, just far away enough to not infringe on the pounded schoolboy's personal space.

"I hope you know what you've done, Michael."

Michael stayed mute, simply keeping eye contact with the crouched pupil.

"You've messed with the wrong people, gayboy." Gavin pushed himself back up; scoffing slightly and, instead of kicking Michael, kicked another of Ray's textbooks along the floor, footsteps thudding against the floor as he left.

' _What the hell is up with that jackass? You'd think his middle name was bi-fucking-polar.'_

"Sorry, Michael." The thin student across the hall blurted out, wiping his hands on the top of his slacks.

Michael turned to the shaky voice, masking his pain with a smile. "Ah, it's not your fault. Don't sweat it."

Michael pulled himself off the floor with a wince, bending over to pick up his glasses, amazed they weren't cracked as his put them on back his face. "C'mon, let's get your stuff and go to class before we're later than we already are."

Ray nodded, pulling his empty bag towards himself, a weak smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he tried to ignore the feeling of the toilet water that was stuck to his face, trickling down his neck and onto his damp uniform. "I have no idea what they did with my glasses."

"We'll find the fuckers."

 

~

"And the answer is..." Mr Burns turned to the class, waving jazz hands in mock enthusiasm. He spyrf a helpless victim at the front of the class who was sat, chin on hand, staring out the classroom door window in a world of her own. "Lucy?"

The girl straightened up confused, widening mascaraed eyes. She opened her mouth to answer and closed it again, repeating the process before tapping painted nails on the metal leg of her chair. "Could you repeat the question, please, Sir?"

"Open bracket, three multiplied by two, squared, take away twenty seven, closed bracket, divided by, open bracket, eight times two, squared."A devilish gleam sparkled in Mr Burns eyes as he moved closer to the girls desk. "Closed bracket."

The girl sat in silence, worried baby blue eyes shaking slightly in their sockets, the entire classroom's attention focused on her, a raven-haired boy shaking with silent laughter beside her.

The doorway to the maths classroom swung open, knocking into Mr Burns slightly who stepped away from the frame allowing the two missing students from the class to enter, twenty minutes late.

Mr Burns focus turned from Lucy to their presence.

The man was fully prepared to launch into a lengthy speech on punctuality until he caught proper sight of the two.

"Sorry we're late, Sir." The smaller and frailer of the two boys spoke quietly. He was drenched, his black hair shimmering in the classroom's bright lights as the liquid soaked through his dress shirt, making his skin clearly visible underneath, the tape around his glasses looking close to breaking. "It won't happen again."

Michael eyes were glued to the floor, hoping Mr Burns would just get the yelling out the way. The bruise over his left cheekbone was becoming more prominent and swollen, flushing a raging red around the edges.

The maths teacher sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyelids, pointing to the boy's places. "Just go to your seats."

Ray walked quickly to his seat, Michael shortly behind him, edging around his friend's chair and seating himself down.

"Okay, back to expanding brackets." The man rubbed the equation on the whiteboard out with his palm, writing a page number and an extension in its place.

"The question was just three times two, you retard." A brown-eyed boy, in front of Ray and Michael's desk, stage whispered to his blonde haired table-partner.

"Fuck you, Brandon." The girl hissed back and, without looking, stomped her foot as hard as she could over his.

Brandon yelped in pain, flinching backwards against the dry concrete of the wall.

"Something you'd like to share with the rest of the class Mr. Farmahini?" Mr Burns inquired, pausing his squiggling to glance at him.

"No, Sir." Brandon shot back, bouncing his foot up and down, trying to release the pain.

"Good. Alright now they'll be four questions on the page, I want you to…"

Ray smiled at Brandon and Lucy's bickering, looking over at Michael who was opening his textbook, rummaging through his MLP bag for a pen, his brown eyes already glazing over, obviously disinterested in Brandon's endeavours.

Ray talked lowly, writing the title fluidly at the top of his page. "Look on the bright side man, I've been dealing with their shit for years, you only just got here and will have left before you know it."

Michael paused, thinking, and then simply nodded, continuing his search for a working ballpoint. "Yeah I guess, and you should think positive too: you won't have to get beat up alone anymore."

The Puerto Rican laughed once, dryly, deciding that making friends with Michael Jones was one of the best decisions he'd made all year.


	3. Real men don't cry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After he stood on the stand against his violent father on charges of assault and rape, a broken 16-year-old Michael Jones, alongside his mother, have been placed under witness protection and moved to a small town called RoosterTeeth in the South-East of England, things seem to be looking up and Michael is enrolled in the local school Achievement Hunters. However Achievement Hunters is ending up to be just another headache for Michael, it’s week one and he's already having to deal with a certain drunken head teacher ruling over the place without a care in the world, people teaching him classes he's one hundred percent sure aren't qualified and some asshole called Gavin who seems to have picked Michael as his newest victim.

If there was one thing, _one thing_ , in this life Gavin could quit; it would be football.

He hated, _despised_ it even, but here he was, sat outside after practise, waiting for his Dad to finish putting away the football boots, sucking smoky grey shit into his lungs and puffing it out again because it made him feel better, even if it was just for a small while.

The concrete in front of Church changing rooms still smelt of newly fallen rain; not that Gavin could smell it through his smoke filled lungs, although it was one of his favourite smells.

Water droplets littered the blades of grass on the field, the mud disturbed in places after a wild practise match. A trail of dirt smeared the ground from the end of field, onto the road, through the bus park and into the boys' side of the PE changing rooms.

Gavin looked up to the see the back entrance of Church, Mr Ramsey being seen through the shaded glass, laughing with Gavin's form teacher, Mr. Sorolla, about some shit or another. He stealthily moved from the steps at front of the changing room's doors, to the plastic, backless bench that was drilled into the concrete floor, out of the two teacher's line of sight.

Seeing the tattoo-covered man sent a pang of guilt sliding over Gavin's stomach. He crushed the stub of paper and tobacco under the heel of his stupid designer trainer, knowing that the head teacher would throw a fit at him over it, worried even though he knew the man had no need to come out of the back way into the bus park.

The tall lad rested his tired eyes, leaning his head backwards against the rough brick wall with a gentle thump. He wondered worriedly if Mrs. Ramsey had told her husband yet about his actions this morning, he had felt like a right tosser about it all day and had no clue when he would be able to apologize for it.

The events began to run through Gavin's mind again like a scratchu record, his hands on auto-pilot, rummaging around in his jacket pocket for another smoke and his lighter.

...

" **Go** _to form Barbie." Gavin hadn't meant for the words to come out with so much spite but to be honest at this point he didn't care._

_No that was lying; if Gavin was going to be_ **honest** _honest with himself he could already feel guilt trickling inside his stomach mimicking the water droplets on his face._

' **Doesn't matter, women need to be put in their place anyway.'**

_Gavin echoed his father's words in his head, stopping himself from apologizing to his father-appointed girlfriend, who he could tell from years of friendship, was currently battling tears._

_Mrs. Ramsey however did not pick up on Barbara's tearfulness and instead of sympathy, raised her shaped eyebrows at the girl, as unhappy as Gavin with her forced presence._

" _Fine." Barbara hissed, stomping her heel in defeat, turning sharply, tears now beginning to form as she stormed through the school doors, her bag knocking off her slim torso as she forced herself to walk away with her head held high._

" _I hate it when she does this to me. I don't think she realises how much I actually_ _try_ _to make her happy." Gavin muttered, watching her blonde hair flick from side to side and disappear around a corner._

_Griffon's eyes softened as she stood next to him, her tone melting away from her usual frosty stern edge to a warmer, kinder voice. "Maybe you could start by being a tiniest bit kinder to her, huh, Gav?"_

_The lanky boy sighed in frustration, his head turning upwards._

_Gavin ran both hands through his straggly hair, messing it up further, tired emerald irises snapping downwards to meet ocean blue._

" _I don't think you're exactly being the nicest lad around at the moment, hm?" Griffon continued, stepping forward._

" _All I am is bloody nice!" Gavin suddenly exploded at the woman._

" _Nice to her." Gavin jerked his hand in the direction of the doors. "To Dan."_

_The other stayed quiet as Gavin paused, running an agitated hand through his messy hair for the second time, frustration contorting his features. "Nice to my Dad, to all those bloody pricks on that fucking football team, hell, I'm even nice to all of Barbara's bitches!"_

_There was a long silence, rain splattering harder onto the concrete. Griffin's eyes softened further turning into sympathetic orbs as she hung her thumbs into the loops of her jeans._

_Gavin was still huffing angrily to himself, the older woman making herself stay silent as his breaths slowly became less fast, merging into a slower and more ragged frequency._

_The teen's body crumpled forward, his voice now small and quiet. "So yeah, maybe sometimes I get a little sick of having to be nice to everyone_ **all** _of the fucking time."_

_The pitter-patter of the rain drowned on, masking Gavin and Griffon's conversation from any wandering ears._

_Griffon spoke lightly, looking up into the storm. "Geoff told me about your Dad asking Dan to stay for the month to give his mother a break."_

_Gavin was quiet this time around. He turned slowly so that his back faced away from the tattooed woman's eyes and the storm._

" _You know, if you ever get tired of being a mincey little prick, you can always come and stay with us, sweetie." Griffon paused letting the words sink in. "You'll always be welcome in our house. Always. No matter what."_

" _Why?" Gavin spat, he could already feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. "And what makes you think_ **I'd** _come for_ **your** _help."_

_Griffon stepped forward, pulling the boy around by his arm, cupping his stubble-riddled face with both her palms, forcing Gavin to look forward into her baby-blue eyes. "Because you are our nephew, Gavin. No matter what happens. We'll always be here for you, just like my sister,_ **your mother** _was."_

_Tears threatened to well over the edges of Gavin's eyes, his Aunt's love, as always, calming the ragged worry that had been eating him alive for years. "Wh-what about-"_

" _Just because we have a baby now doesn't make you any less a member of our family." Gavin's Aunt smiled warmly, turning her head slightly. "That couch pretty much belongs to you at this point."_

_The tall lad choked a laugh, emerald eyes shimmering in happiness. He shakily placed his own palms over Griffon's slender hands, tears beginning to pool over and slide down his cheeks, melting into his facial hair._

' **Real men don't cry.'**

_His father's words mimicked in Gavin's voice, twisted and spiteful in Gavin's mind, causing his grin to drop and his grip on Griffon's hands to tighten._

" _Gavin?" The pierced woman's face creased in worry at Gavin's blank expression._

_The year-eleven blinked frantically, pushing away the older woman's hands roughly from his cheeks, wiping under his eyelids furiously, gritting his teeth._

_Thunder rumbled heavily in the distance, Gavin's eyes turning as cold as the rain splattering on the ground._

_He spoke lowly, ice lacing his tone. "I don't need your_ _help_ _or Uncle Geoff's, so you can both just fuck off."_

" _Gavin plea-"_

" _NO, JUS-...JUST STOP IT!" Gavin screamed at the petite woman with clenched fists, misplaced anger seething through his veins. "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"_

_The hazelnut-haired boy turned sharply, his black adidas bag thumping off his back as he stormed through the building's doors, lightning shattering behind him._

_Griffon stood alone, a slim, tattoo-covered arm outstretched after her nephew, worry spread across her features. The wind blew the rain under the tiny shelter splattering against her black tank top._

" _Oh, Gavin…" She whispered huskily, lowering her arm as she watched Gavin push through double doors and disappear from her view._

...

Smoke drifted lazily from Gavin's nostrils as he exhaled deeply, his eyelids shut, dirty grey ringlets blowing upwards into the dull sky, his second cigarette now half ash.

"Gavin."

It was nice to have some peace.

" _Gavin."_

Even if it was riddled with guilt.

" _GAVIN._ "

Loud yelling snapped the daydreaming teen into reality, being met with his step-father's unimpressed stare. "What…?"

"What?" The man impersonated the boy's words with a squeak, sweat sticking slick grey hair to his temples.

Gavin's football boots swung gently by their laces in his father's right grip, a small white netbook all PE teachers had for registration held against his torso with his left. "I wish you would stop using your mother's ridiculous accent, we're not in bloody Oxford now, boy."

The man held his laptop tighter and swung Gavin's boots forward letting them fly a little too hard into Gavin's gut, causing the lean boy to cough in pain. The younger ended up burning his hand slightly on his cigarette as his hands moved quickly trying, and failing to catch the footwear before it fell to the ground.

"I don't think that was particularity kind or needed, Tom." A cold tone spoke behind the middle-aged man.

Gavin's father just straightened up, placing his netbook onto the blue bench next to his stepson and turned around to address the owner.

"The boy needs to toughen up sometime, Geoff. What with you and your whore of a wife trying to soften him up all the time." The man stepped towards him, attempting to square up to the taller, but was immediately beaten to it by Geoff.

The tattooed man stepped his apart feet, throwing his overcoat to the damp ground and glowering over the smaller man, a dangerous gaze already shattering Tom's stance to pieces.

Gavin held his breath, fear dancing up and down his throat as he tried to swallow dryly, pushing himself backwards into the wall, trying to disappear.

"I'm sorry, _what_ did you just say about my wife?"

"Oh, didn't you hear? Must be too many drunken fights knocking the sense out of your already tiny mind." Gavin's father tapped his head violently, voice full of spite. "I said she was a _whore._ I was sure a satanic man like yourself would already know, and indulge in these things already."

_Slam._

Geoff pushed the man against the small space of brick on the left side of the Church changing room's door by the front of his polo shirt, fury pouring out of him in short angry breaths. He lifted the other off the ground, Gavin's step-dad gripping onto the man's large, rough hands to stop himself from choking.

"You- wouldn't- dare-" The grey haired man managed to choke out, digging short nails into Geoff's reddening skin.

"Geoff, please! Let him go!" Gavin yelled suddenly while he jumped up from his quiet reserve. "You said you wouldn't do this! You promised!"

Gavin's Uncle's eyes danced to Gavin and back to Tom, watching as the man wriggled feebly in his grasp, trying to kick his shins.

After a moment's silence Geoff's shoulders dropped, letting his fingers ungrasp Tom's shirt, allowing him his fall to the ground, satisfied with the sounds of gasping pain leaving the shorter man's mouth as his bones hit the cold concrete.

Kneeling down to the PE teacher's level, the raven-haired man took 's face harshly with one hand, the man's revolting breath filling Geoff's nostrils.

"You're right, asshole. You win. I wouldn't. But don't think I'm not because I'm scared of you. The only reason I'm not beating the shit out of you today is because I promised Raven and Gav that I would get on with you and your dickhead attitudes for _their_ , well, _Gavin's_ sake." He let go of the man's chin, standing up, pointing an angry finger at the figure slumped on the ground. "And if that boy so much as suggests he's done putting up with your shit, I'll be more than happy to beat your fucking ass into the ground."

He looked at his nephew with sober gentle eyes, lowering his hand and nodding before turning to pick up his jacket from the ground, brushing dirt from it and slinging it over a broad shoulder, heading back into Church.

A silence was shared between Gavin and his step-father before the man broke it sharply. "Help me up then."

Gavin jumped slightly, quickly helping the teacher to his feet, then picking up, and almost dropping, the netbook, before handing it to the short man.

In return Tom shook his head, snatching the device walking briskly ahead of the teen towards the car, speaking just loud enough for his son to hear. "Fucking gormless."

~

"Amen." Gavin's father spoke softly, his voice still slightly gruff from Geoff's manhandling at school earlier that day.

It was early evening and Gavin was sat at his kitchen's dining table, eating quietly after his stepfather had finished grace.

The Free household was small, and at one stage, had been the homilest place Gavin knew. Now, however, it was a cold place; one of constant discomfort and the everlasting smell of smoke.

The dining table was a tiny fold out thing, squashed at the side of an old kitchen, two plastic garden chairs being used as seats. The flooring was large blocks of blue and white linoleum, a metal curtain rack hanging above a small window above the sink, stripped bare of any fabric.

"Have you got the duvet down from the attic for Dan on Sunday yet?"

Gavin looked up from his meal of microwave chicken, oven chips and tinned peas. "The what?"

Gavin's father made an irritated noise from his nose, stuffing a piece of chicken into mouth, talking with his mouth full. "The duvet, Gavin."

Gavin scrunched up his face in disgust as a piece of food from his father's open mouth hit his cheek, but stayed silent, simply wiping it away with his sleeve. "No, not yet."

"I want it done by the end of the night. You understand, boy?" Tom growled, shoving more food into his already half-full mouth.

"Yes, dad."

~

"Where should I put it?" Gavin dragged a duvet behind him, two pillows wedged under his arm.

"Just chuck it in the corner." Tom grumbled, pushing Gavin to the side, into the frame of the door as he entered the room, throwing himself down into an arm chair, slamming a bottle of Whiskey onto his side table next to an ice-filled glass.

Gavin threw the articles behind the sofa, throwing himself front-first onto the rough striped fabric.

The living room was one of the larger rooms of the house: a blue, green and white stripped sofa pushed against the right wall, an armchair on at the very end of the wall that held the door, a small wooden table next to it.

A half-full ashtray, remote and now a whiskey bottle and glass sat on the unpolished surface.

A rather large, green rug was pulled over the centre of the room, hiding past burn marks made by iron on carpet. A flat screen TV stood in the corner of the room, on top of a stand with a DVD player underneath it, stacks of movies and CD's around the device.

"Dad." Gavin murmured into the sofa's fabric.

His father brought a cigarette up to his lips, lighting it fluidly with a beautifully decorated lighter that Gavin's mother had once bought for him whilst away on a business trip.

"Dad." Gavin tried again, used to Tom ignoring him.

"What?" The man snapped, dropping the lighter onto the table and blowing a puff of smoke upwards, clouding the already stuffy room further.

Gavin sighed, pressing his face further into the sofa's fabric. "Ca- I invi- e- bar- ra- r- nd?"

"Speak up, boy." Tom grumbled at Gavin, balancing the smoke skilfully in his mouth as he poured his cup halfway with spirit. "I can't hear you with your bloody face in that thing."

Gavin sat up, his hair dishevelled. "Can I invite Barbara round?"

Mr. Free took another draw from his cigarette. "Ah, Barbara."

The man smiled, a rare sight to be seen nowadays. "Of course, you know damn well she's always welcome here."

The younger boy swallowed, swinging round so he was sat properly, shuffling his feet along the carpet. "I was thinking-"

"Thinking? Isn't that a bit dangerous for you, boy?" Tom laughed gruffly at his own joke, flicking ash into his tray and taking a swing of drink, wincing ever so slightly at the strength.

Gavin smiled slightly. "Me and Barbie- I mean- I like her and all, but..." Gavin's voice trailed off.

"I hope you're not suggesting what I think you are, Gavin."

Green eyes flicked upward to see cold daggers piercing his skin, cigarette held mid-air by callous fingers.

"That girl did nothing but care for your sorry arse after your mother passed." Tom crushed the stub into the ashtray, crushing Gavin's hope with it. "You _will_ date her, and you _will_ like it."

"But-"

"Is that understood?"

Staring at the man for a few seconds, Gavin just nodded silently, his step-father nodding back curtly before picking up the remote and clicking the standby button, the television flickering to life.

~

" _Hello, and welcome to ten o'clock news. Today's main stories: After series of shocking videos posted online by a Russian vigilante group, showing homosexual victims being tortured and beaten, campaigns are starting throughout the world to protect those most in…"_

"It's a good thing that group has done, putting those fags in their place." Mr Free announced from his armchair, pouring another whiskey, the ice long since melted from his glass.

Gavin sat on the sofa, legs pulled to his chest, a sleepy head resting on top of his knees, looking outside the living room window into the darkness, trying to drown out his father's words.

"Just as the Lord wanted it." The older man took a long drink from his whiskey glass, placing it back down on the wooden table with and 'ah'. "Gays will burn in hell."

Pulling himself up quietly, a hushed voice escaped Tom's stepson's lips. "I'm going to bed."

Tom grunted an acknowledgment in response, not even bothering to look up from the TV screen.

Gavin trudged up his stairs, the heaviness of smoke weighing down on his lungs, causing him to cough violently as he reached his bedroom door, swinging it open on creaky hinges.

The sleepy boy closed it behind him and slid the lock his mother had installed for him just after his twelfth birthday with a loud click, flicking on the light.

His bedroom was the smallest room in the house, but it was a place where Gavin felt safest. He sat down on the edge of his bed, picking up a small creeper-shaped piggy bank that his mum had brought home from one of her trips away as a PA. He smiled in fondness, turning the worn-out polished clay around in his hands.

The green had faded over the years, and the rubber stopper had long since been lost, but it was the last thing she had ever gotten Gavin, and incidentally the last work-related thing she ever did. It wasn't the most expensive trinket she'd ever got him, but it was special to Gavin, and that was all that mattered. He placed the ornament back to its place on top of his digital clock and dragged his laptop out from under his bed, throwing it onto his bed.

Standing up and stepping over several items on the floor to reach his dresser, the teen pulled open the bottom draw to show an arrangement of pyjama bottoms, he caught sight of himself in the dresser mirror, turning it around quickly before he could get a proper look.

' **Bloody ugly.'**

He wanted to get rid of the thing altogether, or at least move it to a different room, but his father had insisted that it was where his mother had wanted it. So there it sat, only to be turned around every time Gavin entered the room.

The student switched off the light, night clothes dropped at his feet. The boy pulled off his sweater and unbuttoned his shirt, letting the garments fall to the ground. He quickly unbuckled his belt, slipping it out of the loops and pulling trousers and boxers off together in one swift, practised motion. Feeling around for his sleeping wares, Gavin slipped into them, his socks still clinging to his feet.

Jumping into bed he pulled his laptop onto his knees, Gavin flipping it open, being met with a Google search bar and a flashing type bar.

He licked his lips, chewing against the tender flesh, sliding the cursor upwards to private browsing. He could already feel guilt sliding into his system as he typed, he knew it was wrong, he _knew it,_ but Gavin knew without it he probably would have killed himself by now.

" _ **Empty closets forum"**_

Gavin tapped enter, clicking the first result that popped up, the website loading up before his tired green eyes.

" _ **Empty Closets - A safe online community for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people coming out"**_

Gavin sighed half-heartedly, signing in and entering the 'Chit Chat' thread, people just like him filling the site with warm words and encouraging advice.

The lanky Brit smiled, pushing reality out of his mind, giving his stressed mind a well deserved break.

~

**20th April 2013 - 1:03AM**

**You: Hey B**

Gavin watched the screen, sweat sticking to his face; he sat up, opening his window and laid back down with the phone above his head, waiting for Dan to type a response.

After watching five minutes tick by he gave up, throwing the phone to the end of his bed and flopping after it. The covers tangled around his long legs, the fresh breeze from the window lulling the teen to sleep.

…

_Gavin sat on the edge of his mother's bed tentatively, the rhythmic sounds of the respirator breathing in and out, keeping his mother's lungs working, ringing in Gavin's noise was a normal and calming sound for the young boy, reminding him his mother was close by._

_The withered woman on the bed and smiled at her son, opening her palms and trying to lift her arms, inviting Gavin in for a hug. He immediately responded, wrapping his arms around her frail shoulders, hugging her with gentle firmness._

_"Hello, poppet." She whispered breathlessly in his ear, kissing Gavin's cheek with dry, cracked lips._

_"Hi, Mum." Gavin smiled, breathing in her natural scent, her thin, but once thick, hair tickling his nostrils before he pulled back, scooting himself closer to her warmth._

_"How was-" The woman took a steady breath, trying hard to keep her smile through the struggle of words. "Your day?"_

_"Great!" Gavin responded loudly, playing with the hem of the sheets. "Me, Dan and Barbie went to the cinema to see Mission Impossible Two! It was so awesome! There was loads of action and explosions and even some really cool slow mo!"_

_"Oh really?- From what I heard- that was a fifteen- how on earth did- you three- get in?" The woman beamed downwards as Gavin laughed happily._

_"I dunno, Mum, guess I've grown!"_

_Raven laughed coarsely alongside him, coughing wildly at the end of her giggles. Gavin starting to pull a worried face looking towards the door to call a nurse._

_"It."_

_Cough._

_"It's-"_

_Cough._

_"Okay, honey."_

_A splutter of coughs erupted from her mouth again, wheezing._

_Gavin stood. "Should I call a nurse, Mum?"_

_"No- I'll- be- fine-."_

_The young boy looked to the exit one last time before taking trust in his mother's words and sitting back on the bed._

_Raven looked into her baby boy's eyes, stroking his hand. "God, you're growing- more and more- every time you visit!"_

_Gavin features brightened again, trying to hid his smugness. "Not that much."_

_"Ah,- I still remember- when you were only- this high-" The woman motioned to just above the mattress of her bed. "Skinny little thing- you were- it was so hard- back then- Gavy-"_

_The boy kicked off his shoes, tucking his feet under his mother's arm, settling into another story._

_"Your father- Not Tommy- But your proper dad- cleared off- just before your third birthday!" A couple of coughs escaped her lips. "Imagine that- me and you.- I was only about 19 at the time- living in a crappy apartment downtown- living off benefits of all things!"_

_"I remember that apartment!" Gavin cheered, almost bouncing on the bed sheets. "The one with the crack on your wall!"_

" _Yes-" She laughed at his bizarre excitement. "I'm surprised you- remember that."_

_"And we always had sleepovers in your room!" Gavin continued, looking upwards in remembrance._

_Raven nodded happily, lifting a weak arm and caressing her son's face. "Gavin- I've been meaning to- ask-"_

_"And, and, AND would let me play on his game cube sometimes!"_

_"Gav-"_

_"OH! OH! AND LLOYD! THE BUILDING'S STRAY! DO YOU REMEMBER LLOYD, MUM!?"_

_"Honey, you're- shouting." Raven coughed again, still brushing soft fingers against Gavin's delicate skin._

_"Oh." Gavin ducked his head slightly. "Sorry."_

_The worn-out woman chuckled hoarsely, a series of coughs once again drying out her laughter quickly. "Sweetie-, Tom has- talked to you- about what's going to- happen to me-, right, sweetie-?"_

_The boy went quiet, nodding solemnly._

_"You know, that I- love you- a lot-, right Gavy?"_

_Green eyes shot upwards, connecting with his mother's, his mouth open slightly, trying hard not to hyperventilate, like he had done after these words had been shared last time._

_"Yes, Mum, of course! I love you too!" He threw himself a little harder than he should have done at his mother's frame, clutching her tightly, whispering into her hair, trying not to cry. "lotsandlotsandlotsandlots..."_

_Wheezing, Raven patted his back, shamelessly letting tears trail down her cheeks._

_Gavin sat up again, interlinking his hands with hers._

_"Now- you listen to me- Gavin David- Free." The woman squeezed on her son's hands with all her might, Gavin barely feeling a thing. "You stay- with- Tom- I know that Griff- will try to take you off- him- but you stay- he's a good man, Gavin- even if- he doesn't show it that well- just because your- Aunt and Uncle- don't get on- with him- doesn't mean you shouldn't."_

_Her speech was interrupted by another series of whooping coughs, Gavin biting on his tongue, patiently waiting for her to continue._

_"He gave us- everything- Gavy- took us both- from the garbage pile-" Tears continued to fall languidly down the young woman's hollow cheeks. "I know- he'll give you- the best education- and keep you clean- and put food- on- the table- and clothes on your back."_

_Gavin nodded, Raven swallowing hard. "His heart's in the- right place, Gav. Believe in him- for me."_

_"Pinkie promise?" The boy whispered huskily, holding out a thin finger._

_The patient smiled, salt filled droplets still falling as she took her son's shaking pinkie in her own bony one. "Pinkie promise."_

...

_Buzz._

Gavin blinked his eyes open, tears close to falling. He rubbed his eyes, images of his mother's soft touch still coursing through his weary mind.

' **Real men don't cry. Real men don't cry.'**

Gavin reminded himself on repeat, automatically smacking his hands around his sheets, searching for his phone, finding the device he clicked onto the lock screen, squinting as he adjusted to the brightness at his fingertips.

**20th April 2013 - 1:35AM**

**Dan: Wat the fuck do u want**

Gavin typed back furiously, the feeling of tears prickling under his eyelashes growing stronger; he just wanted Dan to forgive him.

**You: Are u still coming tomorrow?**

Gavin nibbled at his lip, waiting patiently for a response, the glow of his phone illuminating the room.

**You: B?**

**Dan: I dnt hav much of a fuking choose now do i**

**You: Look im sorry-**

Gavin paused, holding down the delete key and rewriting the text.

**You: im sry i just wasnt feelin it**

**Dan: Y not**

**Dan: ?**

**You: idk i just felt bad 4 em**

**Dan: Y tho**

**Dan: It dnt mater**

**Dan: Not lik pufs hav feelins anyway**

**You: idk**

**Dan: God b i dnt get u sumtimes**

' **Me neither.'**

**You: do u forgive me-**

Gavin tapped backwards.

**You: do u 4giv me?**

**Dan: I always do**

**Dan: U lil shit**

Gavin smiled, Dan always made him feel happier, even if he made him feel worse before he felt better.

**You: gd nite b**

**Dan: Nite**

~

Gavin was laid on his familiar single bed, his sheets a mess at the bottom of his feet, the bare skin of his back slightly sticky against his mattress. Clumps of hair growing from his scalp strewn over an un-covered pillow. His tanned arms were tucked behind his head, a lightly haired chest rising and falling as he breathed lazily, eyelashes fluttering slightly under closed eyelids.

"Gavin." A snarky female voice travelled from Gavin's messy bedroom floor. "It's 9pm, Saturday night, and I am sat in your dumb-ass bedroom, drinking cheap-ass beer."

The young boy let out a long irritated sigh and sat up, blood rushing to his head making the room spin as he blindly grabbed a foster's beer bottle from his bedroom side table, taking a long swing.

"Even your Dad has gone out. Why can't we?"

Gavin continued to ignore his girlfriend's whine, wishing Dan would get here soon.

The bedroom was slightly messier than usual, school clothes and football uniform left from Friday afternoon lay forgotten amongst video game cases and schoolbooks on the floor, other garments hanging over the end of Gavin's bed, piled on top of each other, messy sheets kicked to the end.

Barbara was sat cross legged in the centre of the small room, having pushed, in her eyes, her boyfriends 'junk' away from her, forming a clutter free, but small, oval.

"Gavin." The way she spoke his name grated over the male's eardrums, annoyance washing over his being. "I'm _bored..."_

"Go home, then." Gavin snapped, turning his head sideways to glare at his girlfriend, being met with an upset-looking Barbara staring at his floor, clutching her knees to her padded bust, her done up face holding a crumbling expression.

Gavin's face softened. "Barbie."

The young girl's head shot up, a smile dancing on her lips like it always did when he used her that nickname; it never ceased to make her feel special.

Gavin returned the smile warmly, crossing his legs and pushing himself backwards so he was leaning against the wall next to the window above his bed, opening his arms, inviting Barbara into them.

Barbara crawled on her hands and knees through Gavin's possessions towards her boyfriend, pulling herself upwards onto his unchanged sheets, nestling into the brown-haired boy's lap, leaving a gentle butterfly kisses over his stubbly cheek.

"They're starting summer clubs up again soon." The blonde teen spoke softly, lips now pressed under Gavin's ear, her arms wrapped around his neck. "I'm thinking of joining the art club with Mr Oums, what about you?"

Gavin hummed thoughtfully, the buzz of the alcohol taking away his defensive edge; he slipped his arms around Barbara's slim waist, pulling her closer into his chest.

He may not want to date Barbara but he still cared deeply for her; considering she was one of the closest people in Gavin's life. Her warm presence was often one of comfort when she wasn't being so fucking annoying.

"I was thinking of Drama." The words slipped from the male's mouth before he could stop them.

The green-eyed teen's mouth immediately snapped shut, biting his tongue as he felt the girl in his embrace tense and pulls back, wide-eyed.

" _Drama?_ " Shaped eyebrows lifted up high on her forehead, purple-painted nails clinging to Gavin's bony shoulders as she leaned backwards so that her orange covered features faced her boyfriends. "You want to take _theatre?_ "

The taller teens face fell, sadness prickling at the back of his eyes while Barbara's head tore backwards in a hearty cackle, gently whacking the centre of Gavin's naked chest.

She wiped the corners of her eyes carefully, making sure not to catch her heavy eyeliner.

Barbara's laughter soon departed as she caught sight of Gavin's serious expression. "Wait- you weren't _serious_ were you?"

Gavin stayed silent, looking out his bedroom window.

"Oh come now, poppet." Barbara's sickly sweet voice melted into the other's ears. "You don't want to be a freak, do you?"

Gavin shoved Barbara off his lap hard, a scowl stretching across his face, sitting up on his knees and raising his hand in undirected anger.

"Don't call me 'poppet' you stupid bitc-"The lad paused suddenly, the fear in Barbara's eyes and the way she cowered away from him, shielding her face reminding him of how his mother used to look when his stepdad got mad.

He took a deep breath, lowering his arm slowly and re-crossed his legs, slumping back into the wall.

"Of course I was joking, babe." Gavin smiled weakly at her. "I'm taking sports studies. Like every year. With Dan."

"I heard Mr J is doing it this year." The young girl whispered shakily, uncurling from her defensive position and shuffling herself back to Gavin's arms, used to her boyfriend's outbursts.

He'd never actually struck her down, and she always told herself he never would, but this was at least the third time he had almost hit her this month and it was starting to put Barbara on edge.

"Yeah." Gavin murmured, re-latching his arms around Barbara's form, her heart pounding loudly against his chest.

The blonde teen nuzzled into Gavin's furry neck, kissing him lightly. She pulled back suddenly, straddling the boy suddenly, well-kept nails dangling over the back of her boyfriend's shoulders.

"Gavin." She began precariously, turning her head to the side, eyebrows coming together in worry, shimmering blue irises gazing into Gavin's green. "Do you love me?"

Gavin took in a deep intake of breath.

Barbara was sat over his legs, his large palms still resting on her hips.

Shaven, orange-tanned legs appeared from tight fitting, light blue denim shorts, a pastel coloured, pink, see through blouse was buttoned up loosely, a diamond pierced belly button visible under the short cutting fabric.

Most boys' vision would have been looking the sight up and down, but Gavin's eyes were locked straight on the girl's face. Heavy pink blusher covering orange-tinted skin, black smeared around her eyes, long fake lashes glued into place.

' **Love?'**

Gavin searched his girlfriend's eyes, he cared deeply for Barbara, fuck it, he could even say that he did _love_ her. He was pretty sure if she called in the middle of the night drunk and on the side of town by herself he'd drag himself out of bed to go and get her.

It wasn't the type of love where he longed to be with her every waking hour or sit playing with her hair for hours, or even have sex with her.

He loved her as a friend.

' **Not that I'd live if I told her that.'**

"Why wouldn't I?" Gavin choose to answer, cupping Barbara's face with his hands and smiling lovingly, leaning forward and touching his nose with hers.

The girl giggled uncharacteristically, shyly ducking her head away from the boy's fingertips so Gavin's nose ended up in her fluffed up hair. She grinned toothily, glad for the make-up covering her blush, looking upwards under her locks of hair, brought together like a veil over her face.

"I love you too, Gav." Barbara blurted suddenly, pulling up her head quickly, almost whacking Gavin in the face, her wide smile stretching further across her face.

The teen holding onto her laughed awkwardly, his hands back to shielding her waist, his eyes looking away from her. He glanced back, a smudge of pink catching his attention.

"Um, Barbs, you have a bit of… lipstick." Gavin motioned towards the other's teeth with his head.

If Barbara hadn't been so heavily made up, you could have seen the blush grow wider across her cheekbones.

"Oh." She spoke shakily, rubbing along her incisors with a finger, her heart beating furiously under her petite bust, thumping a mile a minute. "Thanks."

She looked up at Gavin, flicking her hair off her shoulder and giggling fakely to regain her posture, pushing the bottom part of her body firmly into Gavin's crotch, causing the taller lad's breath to hitch slightly.

Barbara nibbled at her bottom lip nervously, making a split second decision and leaning forward suddenly, pushing a shaky hand upwards through Gavin's already messy hair, smashing her painted lips with his.

The boy's eye grew wide; Barbara's shut tightly, moving her own lips desperately against him.

Gavin's arms dropped to his side, paralysed. Barbara pulled back, breathing heavier than before, kissing across Gavin's jawline and down his neck, her teeth grazing against the tanned skin, grinding her lower half against the teen's crotch.

Blushing wildly in discomfort, Gavin moved his hands up to Barbara's shoulders to push the girl away from him, her mouth returning to his, the teen's lips unmoving as she began to attempt to push her beer flavoured tongue down his throat.

The blonde had misinterpreted the movement of her boyfriend's hands, roughly taking one and placing it over her chest, causing the other to gasp against her lips, pushing her away harshly with a little more force than necessary.

Barbara fell backwards onto the bed grinning, wrapping her slim legs around Gavin's waist, trying to pull him on top of her.

Gavin pulled away, untangling her legs, reddened cheeks clear in the bedroom's light. "No, Barbie- I-"

The girl's face fell, she sat up, swallowing hard and crossing her arms in a fake bravado, cocking her head to the side.. "Are you seriously rejecting me _again_?"

"I just-"

' **Don't want to have sex with you.'**

Gavin looked away from the attractive girl, rubbing the back of his neck, finishing his sentence in mumbles. "Want to wait a bit first…"

"I've been waiting for fucking months, Gav, do you know how many people would kill to get in these pants?" Barbara hissed, she could feel frustration bubbling violently under her skin.

"Yeah but-"

"I'm sick of this! We're supposed to be dating and you refuse to do _anything_ with me!" The fair-haired teen smacked the dirty sheets with tightly clenched fists, speaking with all the malice she had. "What? Are you gay or something?"

_Slap._

His hand had moved before he could stop it, the girl tumbling off the bed sideways to the floor. Gavin's mind registering what his fury induced actions had done.

' **No.'**

The girl sat up, shock etched to her face, lip glossed mouth wide open, hair ruffled from the fall, a red mark blossoming across her cheek.

' **Nononono!'**

She sat staring upwards at Gavin for a long time, and then she did something Gavin hadn't seen her do for years.

Barbara burst into tears.

' **What have I done?'**

Gavin sat in silence as tears streamed Barbara's face, her breath turning raspy from smoke and tears as she let out howls of betrayal and pent up sadness. She began to calm herself down, shaky sobs stopping and starting, her boyfriend still sat motionless on his bed.

The girl composed herself and wiped away her tears furiously with her palms, eyeliner smearing down her skin. She stood up, facing Gavin, her ragged breaths turning more into angry hisses by every passing second. Gavin pushed himself off his bed and stepped forward, regret swimming in his eyes.

He tryed to touch the girl's face. "Barbie… I'm-"

"GET OFF ME!" The girl shrieked, smacking the teen's hand away, she exploded into a fresh stream of tears, her voice strong but wavering through her sobs. "How dare you Gavin Free! How fucking _dare_ you!"

"I didn't mean it, you can-"

"Am I not good enough? Is that it? Is that why you'd rather slap me around then fuck me? Would you rather be with some fucking nerd like my sister!?"

"Of course not Barbie, you're perfect, you-"

"ARE YOU CHEATING ON ME?!" The girl continued to yell, stamping her feet, her fists clenched. "YOU'RE FUCKING THAT SLUT SARAH AREN'T YOU?! I BET YOU WOULDN'T HIT _HER_!"

"No, no I-"

"I HATE YOU!" The girl began to pound her tiny fists against Gavin's chest, pushing him back into his side table, items falling to the floor as he bashed into it. "I FUCKING HATE YOU GAVIN FREE!"

She picked up an item from Gavin's feet, a piggy bank, she screamed and throwed it against the back wall.

"NO, THAT-"

' **Was my mum's'**

Gavin's mouth hung open, his arm outstretched, staring at the remainder of the porcelain that was scattered along the carpet at the end of the room.

Barbara finished her rage towards the boy with a shove, causing the grief-stricken teen's legs to give way. His right leg hit the edge of the table, causing pain to shoot up it.

"Who'd want to have sex with you anyway?" The girl spat on his crumbled boy, whirling around and picking up her handbag from the floor, knocking over her half-empty bottle on the way out, slamming Gavin's bedroom door behind her.

The sounds of her stomping down the stairs and leaving the house rung loudly through the tall Brit's ears.

' **Why?'**

Gavin brought his knees to his chest, the silence gnawing him inside out. He looked out of his bedroom window as tears started sliding down his face. Letting out muffled sobs into the fabric of his jeans, he slowly rocked backwards and forwards into himself.

He knew why.

' _ **Real men don't cry'**_

The words stung, surrounding his being and making Gavin cry harder.

' **Yeah, but stupid, ugly, faggot, girl-beaters do.'**


	4. Drunken minds think alike.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After he stood on the stand against his violent father on charges of assault and rape, a broken 16-year-old Michael Jones, alongside his mother, have been placed under witness protection and moved to a small town called RoosterTeeth in the South-East of England, things seem to be looking up and Michael is enrolled in the local school Achievement Hunters. However Achievement Hunters is ending up to be just another headache for Michael, it’s week one and he's already having to deal with a certain drunken head teacher ruling over the place without a care in the world, people teaching him classes he's one hundred percent sure aren't qualified and some asshole called Gavin who seems to have picked Michael as his newest victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Erin!~  
> (imagination-and-fanfiction.tumblr.com)  
> You and your fanfiction ROCK, girl. ;)

Lindsay made a 'humph' noise through her nose and picking up a chip,

' _fry'_

looking extremely unimpressed with the boy with broad-glasses opposite her.

"I don't give a flying fuck _who's_ birthday it is, Ray. Going to a party where Barbara Dunkelman has appointed herself as grand party guest is a bad fucking idea." Lindsay waved her ketchup covered chip around a bit.

' _I swear they're fucking fries.'_

Some of the red sauce flicked in Ray's directions, causing him to scrunch his nose as she continued. "I should know, she is my sister after all."

"Huh?" Michael's mouth dropped open, a bit of sandwich falling from his open mouth to the table, the boy immediately covering his mouth and brushing the bread to the floor, swallowing the remaining food quickly.

"Yeah, you heard me. No going to the party." Lindsay spoke fiercely, turning her attention over to Michael sharply.

"No, no, no, wait- hold up a sec." Michael stopped Lindsay in her tracks. "Barbara is your mother fucking _sister_?"

"Yes, you moron. Who do you think I take the buses to school with every moron?"

"It's not that fucking obvious, you have different last names, how the hell was I supposed to know?"

"She's my stepsister, idiot." Lindsay rolled her eyes, pushing away a now nearly empty plate, moving onto her dessert, breaking a piece of flapjack from the bowl and placing it into her mouth.

Ray huffed, pushing his own plate away from himself. "He's my boyfriend, he wants me to go and I want you guys to come with me so I'm not alone when he's with Erin."

"Just don't go." Lindsay spoke quickly, crumbs stuck to her cheek. "Besides, Ray, you've barely touched your food."

The expression on the scrawny boy's face became unreadable, muttering at his friend lowly. "Not hungry."

Michael stopped eating; watching the two share a long look, deciding it was best to stay out of it and instead of speaking up continued chewing.

_'Best not to get involved.'_

"Anyway," The young girl changed the subject. "If Barbara's there it automatically means her friends will be. I don't want you guys getting into trouble with Dan and his gang of assholes. Well apart from Gavin I suppose..." She trailed off.

Ray's eyebrows creased together, Michael sharing his puzzlement. "Why wouldn't Gavin be there?"

"Oh, shit." The fiery-haired girl squeaked covering her mouth. "I wasn't supposed to say that."

"Hold up, what happened with Gavin and Barbara?" Ray voice quibbled, pushing his broken glasses up his nose.

"Look, it doesn't concern you guys..."

The skinny Puerto Rican opened his mouth to talk again Michael interrupting him, turning around to look at him. "Yeah, you're right, it doesn't."

"Well, if Gavin isn't there I don't see why Dan would go." Ray continued, sucking the remainder of his juice box dry.

"Last I heard Dan's trying to date Sarah, so if she's there with Barb, he's bound to be too." Lindsay finished her flapjack, wiping the crumbs from her hands. "I'm out, besides, I think my Dad would kill me."

"And he'd just let Barbara go?" Michael inquired.

"Believe me, after a while I think my Dad's given up on her. It's not like she's his daughter anyway..."

"Michael, you'll at least go with me right?" Ray whined from his seat. "Please, seriously, I'm begging you here."

The young boy sighed, crushing his can with both hands.

"It's a bad idea Michael; I don't even think you should go, Ray."

"See, at least Michael's got common sense." Lindsay shot at Ray.

"But-"

"Fine, I'll go to Joel's fucking friend's party." Michael stopped the two before they could start bickering again.

"Yes! You're the best, man!" Ray cheered from his place, a wide grin spreading under his button nose.

Lindsay put her hands up in defeat. "If any shit happens, I told you fucking told so."

"You worry too much." The smallest boy commented, standing up and picking up his full plate, the food mostly destroyed by his fork.

"It's my job to worry about my friends." The girl snapped back, eyes worriedly glancing over Ray's plate of food.

Michael shook his head, picking up his own sandwich wrapper and empty can, walking ahead of the two to throw them away.

_'What the hell have I gotten myself into?'_

_~_

Michael and Ray stood outside Erin's house, it wasn't very late but sounds of the party inside were clearly heard through an open window.

"Are you sure about this, Michael?" Ray piped up from beside his friend, he was wearing a tight-fitting t-shirt that held a image of deadpool on the front, his legs covered by light, skinny jeans. His large, broken glasses sitting, clean and re-tapped to the best of his ability on his nose.

"Yes, I'm sure." Michael replied, wearing simple clothes and no glasses, having persuaded his mother into buying him contact lenses from the opticians in his prescription. The hazelnut colour of his eyes matched that of the sprinkle of freckles over his cheeks, his baby-face features more prominent on his face.

"But are you _sure_?"

"I'm starting to think it's _you_ who's not too sure, Ray."

Ray ducked his head. "Sorry, I- I just get a bit nervous around people I don't really know is all."

Michael laughed, touching the Puerto Rican's shoulder gently. "Don't worry about it; we can still leave now if you want."

"No, I want to stay."

Michael shrugged. "It's your call, man."

"Thanks, Michael." The skinny boy smiled as Michael removed his touch.

Ray rapped on the door with his knuckle to be greeted by an already rather drunk looking Barbara, looking the two of them up and down.

"Hey! Hey! Look who it is!" She looked between the two again, taking in the scene in her fuzzy mind, talking loudly as she waved a plastic cup around that was in her hand. "It's Raymond and Matthew!"

The girl was wearing a tight-fitting black dress that dipped dramatically at the cleavage, the fabric cut just below her buttocks, legs obviously slapped in fake-tan the night before, stretching downwards to her matching high heels. Her large hair and colourful make-up were just as dramatic as her outfit. "Come in! Won't you come in! Friends of Erin's are friends of..."

The girl trailed off, looking behind the two, squinting, red lips open as she tried to finish her sentence, realisation flashing her face and she pointed at the two, yelling as she finished her words. "FRIENDS OF MINE!"

Michael didn't bother correcting her, just nodding with a fake smile, sharing a confused look with Ray as the girl motioned them in, nearly tripping over the shoes in the hallway, giggling to herself wildly.

Music blared from the living room and Kerry and Miles were sat on the stairs together, obviously deep in some conversation or another. He and Ray followed cautiously behind the drunken blonde through a hallway and into the living room of the house.

Michael let out a sigh of relief as he saw, scattered around the living room, lots of different people who were dressed in jeans, shorts and t-shirts.

In other words, not dressed up in like Barbara.

The freckled teen looked around the room, he recognized some people from Achievement Hunters High, some he either didn't know or at least didn't register when walking around the school ground, and some, he personally thought, were a little too old to be rocking this scene.

"HEY ERIN, NERD ONE AND TWO ARE HERE!"

A brown haired girl who looked in about her early twenty's swung out of the kitchen door, her own plastic cup overflowing with some alcoholic substance or another. She wore a baggy, dark blue top that read 'Tumblr', with denim shorts underneath, her feet clad in purple converses."WHO AND WHO, NOW?!"

"Ray! Oh my god! It has been too long!" A large smile burst across Erin's features as she scurried past Barbara and straight to Ray, throwing her arms around the tiny boy, a grin still plastered to her face. "And who is this handsome young man over her? Joel will be mortified if you're cheating on him."

' _Okay, maybe it's us who are too young to be rocking this scene.'_

"This is Michael, he moved here recently from New York."

Erin dropped her grip on Ray, enveloping Michael in the same warm and friendly hug, the confused boy blushing slightly at the close embrace.

The smiley brown-haired girl pulled back smiling at him, her scent a mixture of beer and body spray. "S'nice to meet you, Michael!"

"Likewise." Michael replied stepping backwards from her presence, shoving his hands into the back of his pockets.

' _I'm guessing this crazy bitch doesn't know the meaning of personal space._ '

"A neighbour to my home country, I see!" Erin took a swing from her plastic cup. "My grandpa lives in New York, y'know? You don't have much of an accent from there, do ya?"

Panic rised in the redhead's throat, his brain scouring for an excuse to his un-New Yorker accent. "We- We moved around alot..."

"Oh! A traveler!" Erin beamed. "In my gap year I traveled all over Europe, y'know-"

"Yes, Erin." Barbara pushed past the woman on her way to the kitchen, grinning drunkenly to herself behind the party girl's back. "I'm pretty sure _everyone_ has heard about your trip around Europe."

"Just like I'm sure _everyone_ has heard about all the guys you've slept with!" Erin called after her, Ray and Michael stood awkwardly as people chatted loudly around them, music underlying the conversations.

"Oh fuck you, just because you're a frigid old bitch." The blonde shouted from the kitchen, pouring vodka into a cola filled glass.

"Barbara Dunkelman!" The _'crazy bitch'_ put her hands firmly on her hips, in mock assertion. "I will call your mother right this instant!"

Barbara came back into the living room, drinking heavily from her cup and throwing herself on top of a sixth former Michael recognized who made an 'oof' noise from her added weight before laughing and wrapping his arms around the slim girl's hips. "You're not paid to babysit me anymore, Erin!"

"Fucking feels like it! You act worst then bloody Joel sometimes!"

Michael looked at his friend questionably, to which he just responded with a smile and a shrug.

"Oi! I heard that!" Clattering was heard from the other room, glass knocking against glass.

A miffed, but drunk looking Joel tottering through the doorway of the kitchenette, smiling.

"RAY!" The black-haired teen's expression lit up when he caught sight of his petite lover, bounding across the short distance and picking up Ray's tiny form easily, spinning him around before falling to the floor with his boyfriend in his lap.

Ray squealed at the sudden attention, he could feel people eyes turning to them. He looked up at Michael who was smirking at them and he felt heat spread further under his glasses as Joel's snuggled into his shoulder.

' _Are we the only fuckers not already drunk, here?'_

The doorbell chimed, interrupting the gathering, most ignoring the chimes and carrying on with their conversations. Barbara jumped up, easily working her way through the chaos towards the door, leaving her drink on the floor next to the sofa, announcing her role to everyone. "I'll get it!"

Erin smiled at her newest guests. "Right, so who wants bee-"

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE?!" Barbara's voice came shrieking through the open door, everyone in the room going silent as they turned towards the sound.

' _That doesn't sound good.'_

_~_

Michael was sat next to Joel and Ray on the sofa, a beer bottle grasped between both hands, and at this point, he was way beyond knowing what number it was. The soothing drink had long since washed away his usual anxieties and the redhead was relaxing into the sofa's soft fabric.

_'Never thought this shit would be happening...'_

Michael mused hazily to himself, tipping back the beer bottle in his hands and drinking the dregs, placing the empty glass at his feet.

It was approaching 12am, some people had come and some people had left, the remainder of the party sitting around on the floor and various seats, drinking whatever alcoholic concoctions were been made in the kitchen, playing truth or dare.

Barbara was sat at the far end of the room in a comfy-looking bean bag, arms folding over tightly over her chest, still sulking in her skin-tight dress over the arrival of her ex-boyfriend and his mates.

Both Ray and Michael had expected more of a tension to be shared between them and the group of football players that had turned up. But, after Erin and her good nature had ushered them in, scolded Barbara for being so rude and pushed a couple of shots down their throats they were more than happy enough to sit around in their own friendships groups drinking and ignoring everyone else, much to Michael's cloaked relief.

Gavin's eyes caught his own, his laughter falling slightly as his expression turned blank, moving his head away from the freckled-teen.

_'I'm sure it has something to do with Joel being here though...'_

Almost as if responding to Michael's thought, the dark-haired sixth former shot another dangerous look in Dan's direction, his sober boyfriend obliviously unaware to his boyfriend's protection, watching animatedly as Chris swallowed a spoonful of cinnamon. After a short pause the boy began to cough hysterically, tears running down his face as the party laughed, phone's cameras pointed on him as he ran for the kitchen, the sound of gargling and violent sickness drifting after his exit.

Erin snorted loudly on the ground beside the settee, clutching her stomach. She looked backwards to see Joel stroking a piece of hair behind Ray's ear and began to make inhuman noises loudly.

The university student stumbled to her feet, a new cup of beer she had just been handed sloshing dangerously in her loose grasp, pointing a wagging finger in the two's direction. "YOU GUYS ARE SO FUCKING CUTE I SWEAR!"

"Erin, you're yelling." Joel spoke calmly, amusement etching his usual grave features.

"THIS IS SOMETHING THAT NEEDS TO BE YELLED ABOUT, MR HEYMAN!" The brown coloured liquid in Erin's cup continued to slosh as she stretched her back, turning so her full attention was on the sofa. "SERIOUSLY, YOU GUYS NEED A FUCKING COUPLE'S NAME. RIGHT NOW."

Ray laughed half-heartedly at her antics, a small yawn slipping from his lips at the end, his sober mind the only one in the room not stimulated by the buzz of liquor. "I'm pretty sure we _don't_ need a couple's name, Erin."

"JAY?" The woman took a swing from her drink, trailing off into her cup. "No, no… Too namey…"

"Names tend to me 'namey'" Joel slipped in, making Michael smile silently to himself.

" ROEL?" The woman began to laugh weakly to herself. "Damn, that's a motherfucking awful name."

Joel rolled his eyes; Ray's attention back on the game of truth of dare.

"OH MY GOD!" The maroon-haired, twenty-year-old brought her beer back to her mouth and paused suddenly, mouth hanging wide open, her fuzzy mind slotting the puzzle pieces into place, most of the room's attention falling onto her.

"FUCKING. JOELAY." With that Erin barked out one last laugh before her exhausted, alcohol filled body gave way, sending her crashing to the ground. Her drink slipped from limp fingers, the liquid splattering outwards, landing all over Michael and his jeans.

' _Oh fuck.'_

_~_

Michael pulled off his jeans, the wet squelch of denim making it nearly impossible to wriggle himself free. He managed to get them halfway down, his embarrassing 1up boxers not spared from the spreading dampness. The boy plonked himself down on the toilet seat, looking around as he kicked and pulled the remaining stretch of his jeans down.

The bathroom was a bit bigger than Michael's, the ground a soft laminate unlike his hardened tile.

There was no medicine cabinet above the sink, but a round mirror with a steel edging, the light was bright to Michael's buzzing mind, the glass of the window covered in a spiral-like pattern that prevented others from looking in.

Michael squeezed his face shut, pulling over his ankle the last bit of jean, his sock going with it.

There was a knock at the door, Michael called out a half-hearted 'come in', wiping his legs with a body towel, thinking it was Ray.

"Nice underwear." The spiteful voice stopped the redhead in his tracks, covering himself up with the rough cotton of the towel.

Suddenly the words softened. "If it makes you feel any better I'm wearing halo boxers."

Michael looked up, his expression confused.

Gavin was stood sheepishly in the door hallway, rubbing his left arm up and down, face tinged pink from too much drink.

Michael spoke quickly. 'What the fuck do you want?'

After a long, very uncomfortable silence, the trouser-less of the two realised Gavin wasn't leaving any time soon and continued trying to dry his legs with drunken hand-eye co-ordination, ignoring the taller's presence.

"Great party, huh?" Gavin spoke again, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door slowly behind him.

"Hm." Michael responded.

_'How the fuck should I know? Never been to one before.'_

The lanky Brit clicked the lock behind him, causing Michael's attention to fully move to the situation he was in, his mind realising him and Gavin were alone together in a locked room.

"Why did you lock the door?" Michael shakily inquired, eyes narrowing.

Gavin shrugged, scratching at the top of his messy hair.

_'Oh shit.'_

Panic began to pulsate through Michael's veins.

_'Oh fuck. I'm gonna get raped. Oh my fucking god. Not again. Please. No. Oh my god.'_

A cautious gaze followed Gavin as he made his way over to Michael, bending down slightly.

"I- I'm sorry I-"

**'I hurt you, I just, I get scared of what people think and-.'**

Gavin stumbled over his words, even in his mind, the pink under his stubble glowing lighter. He reached out towards Michael's soft-looking cheek in a drunken attempt to say sorry.

Michael however did not see the gesture in the same way. He could deal with the abuse at school, the beatings, the names, but he was not, _not_ letting anyone touch him without his permission again.

A firm hand shot out, the owner standing up and wrapping his palm around Gavin's wrist, bringing it to the taller boy's shoulder blade. His other hand raked through Gavin's brown hair, pushing the pupil's downwards, Gavin's face hitting the ground with a thud.

The action created a red mist of alcohol and anger over Michael's mind, adrenaline rushing powerfully around his body.

"So much as fucking try to touch me again, and I break your arm." Michael hissed into the boy's ear. "Do you fucking understand me, Gavin Free?"

The teen on the ground gasped at the sudden pain, a drunken mind trying to make sense of what just happened. "I just- wanted to say sorry- for being a prick."

"Why? Why now? Why not before?" The redhead could feel tears beginning to form, still on the defensive. He didn't know if Gavin was being truthful or if this was just another game to play on him.

Why couldn't people just leave him alone?

"I get scared, okay! Scared of losing my Dad. Scared of loosing Dan and Barbara. And I know I've already lost Barbara but still!" Gavin continued to huff into the floor, trying and failing to wriggle out of Michael's grasp. "I like you, Michael. I don't know why but I do, and- and I just wanted to- make things right."

The smaller boy let go of Gavin's arm, walking backwards defensively towards the door, one hand behind him, reaching for the lock, ready to run.

Gavin sat up, hands resting on top of crossed leg, reminding Michael of a child, the green-eyed teen watching the patterns on the ground dance through a liquor-stained mind. "I'm so sorry, Michael."

Michael weighed up the possibilities of what Gavin would do if he stayed, and decided they were stacked in his favour.

"It's okay, Gavin." The crossed legged teenager looked up to see Michael crouched in front of him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I get scared too"

They both smiled, letting their confused, but mutual feelings last as long as possible.

Then something unexpected happened.

Gavin Free leant upwards and stole Michael's lips for the first time.

The kiss was short and chaste, but enough to take the freckled boy's breathe away. Something deep inside Michael's heart cracked, close to the point of bursting, but the crouched boy wasn't ready to let it go just yet, his eyes wide.

Gavin pulled back, opening his eyes, the innocence across his face like a bruise on a peach. "Sor-"

Before the stubble covered boy could apologize, Michael pushed himself downwards, wrapping his mouth over Gavin's again.

It had been so long since Michael had felt this close to someone physically, properly, not being forced into it. He wanted them to be close to them this way, he craved it, _needed_ it.

Gavin stood up, lifting Michael upward suddenly, without warning, pushing him backwards into the wall beside the bath, with a slam. He kissed hungrily at the smaller's jaw line, stepping forwards brashly so his leg rested in between Michael's open ones.

What was Michael doing?

This was the boy that had beaten the crap out of him on his first day at Hunter's High for no reason, the boy who had bullied Ray relentlessly all through his high school life.

Gavin pulled sharply with his teeth under Michael's chin, causing memories to flood back to him.

…

_Shards of the bathroom mirror crunched under his father's heel, a strong hand clutching Michael's chin, holding him against the tile wall._

_The man's foul smelling teeth gnashed sharply under his jaw line, Michael's face scrunching together in pain and disgust, his tears run dry from the seemingly endless brutality the man inflicted upon him._

_Cold tile pressed against the back of Mich-_

_..._

' _NO.'_

No.

This wasn't his father.

This was Gavin.

Michael pushed the thought of his father's touches to the back of his mind as Gavin's breath spidered over his face, heavy and hot against Michael's sensitive skin, sending shivers down the red-head's spine.

Gavin's eyes glazed over with lust as he pushed the weaker back against the bathroom wall, harder.

The stubble covered boy pulled down the neck of Michael's damp shirt to reveal a naked collar bone, leaving intoxicating nibbles and nips against his washed-out flesh.

Michael's head lolled backwards against the cool tile wall, panting faintly, his fingers threading through Gavin's dishevelled hair.

A harsh pull against the locked door shocked the two out of their wanton affection.

"Hurry the fuck up!" A drunken voice yelled from the other side, a palm hastily whacking on the painted wooden door. "I need a piss!"

Gavin shoved Michael backwards, making him trip into the bathtub, a sickening thud erupting as soft skin and a sensitive spine collided with the smooth porcelain, a groan of pain exiting the freckled student's lips in response.

' _Fuck that hurt.'_

The lanky teen leaned over the side of the tub, unaware of Michael's discomfort, intoxicated words slipping in hushed tones from his lax mouth. "Wait- wait here. When. When he leaves- meet me- meet me in the bedroom. You got that, love?"

' _Did he just call me love?'_

Michael nodded quickly, out of it, still wheezing, half from the pain and half from the affection he had received moments ago.

Gavin pulled the blue shower curtain across in a quick motion, hiding him from sight, the laying year 11's vision dancing and blurred even though his contacts were crystal clear.

The sound of the door's lock clicking open echoed around his drunken mind.

' _Michael, what the fuck are you doing?'_

The teen grit his teeth and ignored his sanity, concentrating on holding his breath, listening to the hazy sounds coming from the rest of the bathroom.

A zipper and belt, liquid hitting ceramic, splashing against the waters below was followed by a long contented sigh.

Michael pulled a face, pressing his features against the bottom of the bath, thankful the material was dry.

The re-doing of a zipper and belt sounded again, the bathroom door creaking open, leaving Michael alone. He left out a large breath, gasping for air, pushing open the curtain and stumbling out of the door onto the carpeted landing.

The dim light of the landing messed with Michael eyes, contrasting to the bright light of the bathroom. He braced himself against the hallway wall, the smoothness of the wall cool against his fingertips.

_'Bedroom. Just gotta get to the- Bedroom.'_

The freckled-boy realigned his thoughts slowly, shuffling down the carpeted floor, one hand trailing against the wallpaper until his hand brushed against a cold decorated handle.

Michael gripped tightly on the gold-coloured metal and pushed down, swinging himself into the darkened room.

' _Got it.'_

A strong arm pushed the door shut behind the teen, immediately pulling a dresser in front of the wooden frame that had been pre-pushed closer to the door waiting for Michael's arrival.

"Hello, love." A low British voice growled into Michael's ear, sharp teeth sinking playfully into his cartilage.

Lanky arms wrapped around the smaller boy's waist from behind, heat creeping up Michael's cheekbones as he realised the green eyed boy behind him lacked a shirt.

Pulling them both further backwards into the room Gavin turned, removing his arms from around the other's waist and pushing Michael roughly backwards into the mattress he had stripped clean of the duvet.

Gavin climbed after him, placing firm hands either side of Michael's head, kissing him harshly, already grinding his body feverishly again the squirming boy beneath him, pushing all thoughts of what was happening to the back of his mind, allowing the lust and alcohol to cloud his broken thoughts.

Michael kissed back eagerly, wrapping his thighs around the other's torso, one sock still clinging to his right foot.

Wiggling under the taller boy's movements, Michael felt heat shoot straight to his groin as Gavin grunted into his mouth in rhythmic breaths. Michael's arms hung tightly around his neck.

They broke for air, gasping hoarsely, Gavin burying his stubble in Michael's neck, his tongue teasing and sucking as the other's Adam apple bobbed as Michael swallowed desperately for air.

"Shirt." Gavin groaned against Michael's skin, tugging feebly at the bottom of his tight fitting clothing. "Off."

Michael happily complied, untangling his arms from Gavin's neck and lifting them above his head.

Gavin's own crotch began to throb as Michael caressed the strip of skin above his belt with soft fingers, light butterfly kisses being sprinkled over the Gavin's neck by Michael's gentle mouth.

The taller had no idea what Michael was doing, but whatever it was, it felt good.

Swallowing his heart back down from his throat, Gavin pushed the other roughly from his body so Michael lay under his open legs, face open and lustful.

Unbuckling his belt, the lanky student pulled it from his jeans, dropping the hardened leather to the floor.

Gavin shuffled backwards, off Michael's body, until his back hit the headboard, pulling the tight fitting fabric from his legs and throwing it to the carpet, the other side to his belt.

Michael sat up and crawled on top of the Brit, his own trousers lying, forgotten on the bathroom floor.

The sweating redhead pulled down at the front of his boxers, his form aching in relief as it was freed from the stuffy pressure of the clingy fabric.

Gavin gasped at the sight, blushing further as Michael pulled the mushroom-covered cotton completely off, straddling Gavin, completely exposed.

The smaller smirked and pulled down the other's shorts quickly, getting tangled, the two boy's blushing as they moved and struggled around each other until their underwear laid forgotten behind them.

Michael took Gavin's hand and brought it upwards to his mouth, the other's bewildered expression making Michael realise he'd probably never had sex with a guy before.

"When you have sex with a guy, you have to stretch them first" Michael began hurriedly explaining to the blushing football player, taking Gavin's hand and popping three fingers into his mouth, Michael sucked longingly, his eyes slipping shut.

Pulling his fingers from Michael's mouth, Gavin breathing quickened, the other boy's saliva coating Gavin's digits in a lubricating sheen.

Michael opened sex-driven eyes, biting his bottom lip teasingly, the corners of his lips tugging upwards slightly.

Gavin couldn't help but smile back, a shy blush dusting his cheeks as Michael guided the teen's hand under himself, lowering his body over the first finger, tensing slightly around the matter, allowing Gavin to feel around inside him, letting himself get used to the feeling again.

After a minute or so of Michael holding himself up over Gavin with shaky wrists, letting the other pull the lone digit in and out, he spoke softly. "I'm not going to stretch if you don't put the other two in, Gavin."

"Oh." Gavin's face exploded in embarrassment, immediately adding the remaining digits, scissoring fast and hard.

Michael hissed in discomfort, flashes of his father's rough touch slithering into his mind. He collapsed onto the other's hand slightly, falling to the side. His hand shot out, clutching Gavin's wrist with sweat covered fingers, stopping the movement, still hissing through his teeth. " _Gent_ -ly"

"Sorry." Gavin murmured, looking away, his drunken state obvious from his tone, Michael re-supported himself with his palms, grinding himself carefully into Gavin's now slowly scissoring fingers.

"Now." Michael whispered huskily, making eye contact with the slender boy below him. "Curl the- Ah- the fingers."

Gavin did as he was told, his only verbal response heavy pants that came from deep within his throat.

The curled tips of his fingers brushed upwards sharply, Gavin continuing to pull them rhythmically inside the redhead.

The digits glided softly against the Michael's special bundle of nerves and Michael tore his head backwards in a low, needy moan, wrists shaking under his weight as he thrusted his hips upwards and grinded himself harder against Gavin's fingertips, keeping a steady pace.

"Okay, I'm ready." The redhead took a deep breath, pulling himself away from Gavin's touch, sitting upwards on his knees, just in front the boy's shaft, sweat already beginning to form on his creased forehead and around his open mouth.

Gavin simply nodded, worrisome excitement strung across his features.

Michael saw Gavin's expression and swallowed. "You've fucked a girl, right? It's just like that."

The boy's hair was ruffled upwards, his back still pressed against the backboard of the bed, the curtains were drawn, the two's eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Awkward seconds began to tick into awkward minutes as both of their breathing began to slow. "Gavin…? Are you err… gonna… y'know… Or…"

Gavin blushed again, darker this time. "S-sorry, sorry."

He pushed Michael to the side roughly, clambering over him, his heart beating fast against his chest, the boy below him sighing in frustration. "Gavin."

"Okay. I lied. I've never had sex with anyone before..." The tall boy then hid his face in Michael neck. "Even a chick."

Michael exhaled. "You could've told me that earlier, asshole."

The freckled-faced boy then pushed Gavin over again, pushing his back against the bed's board, taking Gavin's hand to his waist, lifting himself upwards on his knees over Gavin's member, supporting it underneath his entrance with his pale fingers, spitting on his hand and sliding it carefully over Gavin's sensitive flesh, Gavin letting out a squeak of pleasure at the contact.

Michael's own shaft twitched, longing to be supported, he looked over into Gavin's face. "Can I?"

The Brit responded with a nod, one hand on Michael's waist the other gripping the bed sheet's in anticipation.

Michael lowered himself, his breath hitching as he entered, rolling his hips gently over Gavin's shaft, letting his body get used to Gavin's size inside him, face scrunched up in discomfort.

Gavin wheezed outwards, it felt strange, his nails dug into the redheads white skin and the sheets, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

He couldn't believe he was doing it.

He was having sex.

_He was having SEX._

' **With a** _ **guy**_ **...'**

He began to panic, would it be obvious he wasn't a virgin anymore?

Would his dad be able to tell he'd done it with a guy?

If not what about Barbara and Dan?

Not that Barbie would care, right?... She hated his guts at the moment anyway.

But Dan didn't, would he abandon him too?

Of course he would.

They all would.

_Oh god._

What had he done?

Michael's raspy voice brought him out of his internal meltdown. "I'm gonna move now, okay?"

"Y-yeah." Gavin responded, flustered.

"And Gavin?" Michael's breathing was ragged and heavy.

"Yeah?"

"You're- hurting me."

"Oh.. oh.." Gavin brought his hand down from Michael's waist, pink nail marks imprinted in his washed-out flesh. "I'm- I-

Michael brought the hand back up to his side, leaning forward and stroking Gavin's stubbly face, his nose touching Gavin's, his spirit flavoured breath twirling into Michael's nostrils. "It's fine, just- calm down."

Soft lips took stubble covered ones, kissing softly.

Gavin's eyes widened, whilst the others were squeezed shut.

Colour seeped over Gavin's face as Michael's kiss sent butterfly's flickering in his stomach, the feeling was strange.

He didn't understand it.

Why was Michael so kind?

Gavin didn't understand him either.

The New Jerseyan pulled back, resting his hands behind him on the front of Gavin's legs that he had raised, slightly apart.

Michael began to grind against Gavin, rolling his hips at a steady pace, supporting himself on his knees either side of the Brit's body, toes curling forward into the sweat-slick sheets.

Gavin gasped in pleasure, tightening his grip on Michael's side again, the new, overwhelming feeling drowning out the worries that plagued his mind beforehand.

Michael's sped up his motions, turning his bed mate's thoughts into a lustful, mushy mess.

"M-Michael!"

Michael ignored Gavin's moan, focusing on creating friction inside himself, giving in to pleasure as his gasps became shallower, hitching in his throat.

...

_'That's right, ride me, you fucking little slut.'_

...

Michael felt his face flush full of embarrassment and tried desperately to push away his image of his father, concentrating on Gavin's face that was currently contorted in confused pleasure, his messy hair beginning to stick to his own hot, sticky skin.

Michael allowed long, languid moans to exit his mouth with each grind, not caring if anyone heard.

"Ah- Ah- MICHAEL!"

Michael pushed himself further into the writhing boy's form, now grunting to himself, eyes squeezing tightly shut.

The Brit's eyelids drooped, pupils sliding wearily underneath sandy eyelashes. His mouth was open, head lolling backward against the backboard of the bed at the feeling of Michael's tight form around himself.

Michael allowed himself several seconds to adjust slightly, making sure his grip on the front of Gavin's thigh was tight before he raised his hips, pushing himself down at an angle on Gavin's form.

Both students's received their desired friction, a needier moan exiting Michael's lips that went straight to Gavin's groin, arousing him further as Michael continued to increase his speed, suddenly grabbing for Gavin's hand and placing it over his own member.

Gavin may have been drunk but he understood the gesture, pumping his hand furiously, achieving the friction Michael desired even it if it was a little rougher and sloppier than the redhead would have liked.

A feeling of warmth pooled at the pit of Gavin's stomach, the already quivering boy letting a string of curses from his throat, his body spasming slightly.

Michael's own orgasm was riling up in strength, his toe curling and uncurling as he gasped and moaned with each thrust. The familiar feeling tingled down his spine, Gavin's moving hand taking his closer still to the edge.

Gavin was the first to it, however; with a throaty call of Michael's name, Gavin released his seeds inside the other's walls, pausing his pumping hand and tearing his head back, letting the pleasure of Michael's tight form take over as he rode out the feeling.

The sensation of Gavin's come hitting his insides tipped the other from the edge, Michael's sticky liquid spurting outwards onto Gavin's stomach, joining the rest that was slowly seeping out of Michael's entrance.

Pulling himself out, Michael collapsed forward, landing awkwardly over Gavin's body.

The gangly boy under Michael grunted slightly at the sudden weight, slumping down from his seated position on the back board, onto his back, pushing Michael's body off him slightly.

Michael grunted slightly, making himself comfortable, his spinning mind not particularly caring for the mess he laid in.

Gavin's mind, however, was for once at peace, drifting to its slumber. He breathed rhythmically, his bedmate's face now tucked into his fuzz-covered neck, just above Gavin's bony shoulder.

' _Well, that was different.'_ Michael's alcohol smeared mind contemplated hazily.

The dazed boy was vaguely aware of Gavin's light touch around his body, the tender warmth allowing his own mind to fade into unconsciousness.

~

Loud knocking brought Gavin to the surface of reality, sitting upwards and breathing inwards sharply.

Michael's naked body slumped backwards behind Gavin's seated form.

The redhead's sleeping head was pushed face first into the covers, a pale arm having fallen down from Gavin's chest and into his lap, now in an awkward position because of the Brit's abrupt movement.

"Hello? Who's in there?"

More knocking and a long sigh followed.

"I'm gonna force my way in!" A thud came soon after the threat from the door.

The voice behind the door continued to push himself against the painted wood. The dresser Gavin had pushed in front of the wooden frame shuddered and moved backwards under the weight.

"Whoever's in there better make themselves decent or some shit!"

Gavin was sure he knew the voice, but didn't wait around to let his semi-drunken mind decide who. He scrambled out of the covers, his head already throbbing painfully against his temple.

" _Oh shit. Oh shit._ " The young teen hissed under his breath, searching the carpeted floor for his clothes, giving himself carpet burn along his knees as his naked body fell to the floor, crawling on hand and foot, picking up articles of clothing.

Gavin pulled a face, realising dried semen was stuck to his stomach and crotch, embedded into his body hair.

' **Ew.'**

His bed partner however was blissfully unaware of the situation, turning over in his sleep, the covers hanging over the small of his back, a sleep filled mumble exiting his lips.

Another loud whack came from the door; the clothes filled cabinet scratching against the carpet as it moved.

Gavin's mouth was dry, deciding he could worry about the state of his body at home. He found and pulled his boxers up his hair covered legs, pulling his purple, stripy polo over his head back-to-front, hurriedly untangling his jeans. Finding his belt, the sharp metal of the buckle sliced a small cut into his skin from his hurry, the woken Brit inhaling through his teeth in pain.

_Bang._

The door was almost open, the wooden dresser now at a side, whoever was outside peering in.

Gavin was hidden out from the onlookers view, however, glancing to the window.

Stepping into his trousers, the boy tried to hop them on, tripping in his rush and catching himself of the window's edge.

In a split second the Brit decided it wasn't worth finding his socks, leaving his fly and belt undone and shoving a foot into the wrong trainer, hand trailing under the bed to find the other, cursing under his breath. "Where the hell is it?!"

Outside the bedroom, on the other side of the chaos, Joel Heyman leaned and pushed with the remainder of his strength against the door, grazing it the remainder of the way open against the lush carpet flooring.

Stepping around the dresser awkwardly, Joel's eyes grew vast as he took in the scene in front of him.

Michael Jones was laid; face down in the messiness of covers, the white sheets just covering his lower half, a lone pale thigh peaking outwards slightly. Some of boy's clothes were strung over the bed and on the floor, the sixth former unsure of how to react to the situation.

Joel's gaze travelled around the bedroom for a second person, pulling a confused expression at the open window frame and walking silently over to the pane. He stuck his head out, looking around outside, being met with an empty street; the early morning sun hidden from view.

The sixth former closed the window slowly, wincing slightly at the thump of the painted plastic colliding with the windowsill. He looked behind him to make sure it hadn't woken the sleeping boy, who was still breathing in and out gently; his lips parted slightly and his expression peaceful.

Walking over to the redhead, the squinty eyed teenager pulled the covers over Michael's body further; making sure no remaining party goers would walk in on his uncovered body.

Leaving the room to let Michael sleep, Joel tripped over a shoe, catching himself on the wooden dresser he was going to move later.

A massive bang was created as the older boy's palms hit the hard surface, Michael groaning lowly and wiping semi-consciously at the dried saliva stuck to the corners of his mouth.

Joel stayed still, watching the year eleven's freckled back rise and fall a few moments longer before crouching down on the balls of his feet, lifting up the offending article by its laces.

The trainer was white, a black Nike tick covering the side, the sole well-worn and dirtying.

Joel's face contorted to a puzzled expression, knowing from Ray that Michael hated the brand. He turned the shoe in his hands noticing sharpie that had been scrawled in curly handwriting, standing out along the rubber bottom of the shoe, catching the raven-haired boy's attention.

"I lo- Bar?" Joel tried, talking lowly to himself. "I love Bars?"

The sixth formers pupils grew, eyes opening wide as he recognized the loopy writing.

"I love Barbs." It was Barbara's handwriting, which only meant one thing.

Joel's mouth dropped open.

This trainer belonged to Gavin Free.


	5. Dead as Dicks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After he stood on the stand against his violent father on charges of assault and rape, a broken 16-year-old Michael Jones, alongside his mother, have been placed under witness protection and moved to a small town called RoosterTeeth in the South-East of England, things seem to be looking up and Michael is enrolled in the local school Achievement Hunters. However Achievement Hunters is ending up to be just another headache for Michael, it’s week one and he's already having to deal with a certain drunken head teacher ruling over the place without a care in the world, people teaching him classes he's one hundred percent sure aren't qualified and some asshole called Gavin who seems to have picked Michael as his newest victim.

Sun rays danced playfully on Michael's bare, freckled back, purple-coloured bruises shining brightly against the washed-out flesh of the young American's neck. His sandy eyelashes fluttered hazily against the white fabric of a feather filled pillow as he woke.

Blinking slowly the room began to fuzzily turn into focus, a harsh burning feeling over Michael's chocolate irises stinging him into consciousness, hissing loudly. "Fuck."

He sat up, bitten fingernails clawing desperately at his own eyeballs, peeling away breaking contacts and throwing them onto the sheets. He rubbed at rugged, bloodshot eyes with the tips of his knuckles, liquid from starting to pour down his face.

' _It's your own fucking fault Michael, it even said on the packet to not sleep with them in.'_

The youngster groaned again, flopping backwards onto the bed, his head pounding like a hammer against metal, he continued massaging his eyelids, a small yawn escaping his saliva stained mouth.

' _Where the hell even am I?'_

Liquor-tarnished memories began to sieve into Michael's sleepy thoughts; drunken laughter, the smell of beer and wet denim, a dull bathroom light, stubble scratching against his chin-

Michael squeezed his eyes with the palms of his hand, wanting to go home.

Putting memories of Gavin to the side for now, the hungover teen pulled himself out of the bed, catching himself on the side of the bed when he almost fell over in a sudden shot of unexpected pain.

' _Oh fuck...'_

Michael began to hobble around the room, pulling on the items of clothing he could find, going to scratch his stomach and being met with a hand full of a dried yellowish substance.

' _That is fucking digusting.'_

After some contemplation on where to wash himself and where on earth he put his trousers, Michael pulled on his boxers and shirt, dragging himself down the hall to the bathroom. On his way the boy ended up stepping over some guy sleeping in the middle of the narrow hallway on his way, feeling bad for the hangover he was going to be feeling when he woke up.

Reaching his desired location Michael was met with another sleeping teenager, this time a blonde-haired girl with black streaks covering the bottom layer of her hair snoozing in the tub.

Michael picked up his jeans from the floor: they were still damp and smelt like shit and Michael could feel tired frustration pushing him closer and closer to tears, his crotch area feeling gross and a blender still whacking around the inside of his skull.

Hopping around in his jeans for a couple of minutes, praying silently for the girl in the bath to stay sleeping, Michael managed to wriggle into the soggy denim, cringing at clammy feeling of cold beer against skin.

Finally managing to get himself downstairs, the exhausted teen caught sight of himself in a mirror next to the front door. His sweat-filled curly hair was all over the place, drying spit moulded to his face, eyes still red raw.

Michael wiped at substance around his mouth stepping into the living room to find the converser's he had removed late last night to find Joel sat awake, calmly reading a book, surrounded by other sleeping people.

Michael's caught sight his red sneakers, trying and failing to tiptoe over through, backside twisting in discomfort at his movement. He reached the sofa, reaching for his shoes tying the tight fitting shoes to his feet, about to leave the house to trek home before Joel stopped him, speaking lowly. "You look like you need a lift."

Looking upwards, Michael saw that Joel's gaze was continuing to read, leaving the redhead to wonder if that was a question or a statement.

"Do you?" The sixth former lowered his reading material, large purple marks smeared under his eyelashes from a long night of no sleep.

"Sounds fucking great." Michael didn't recognize his voice, it sounded gruffer and deeper than usual. "Where's Ray?"

"Oh, I took him home a couple of hours ago." Joel replied, eyes returning back to his book.

"Then why are you here?"

Joel made an irritated noise, folding a corner of the book and standing. "I wasn't just gonna leave you alone here, was I?"

Michael was taken aback; Joel had come back for _him?_

' _Maybe I need to rethink my views on Ray's boyfriend after all...'_

"Hurry up then, I want to go home as much as you do." The older boy was already stood at the door, having stealthily made his way around the unconscious bodies, keys in hand. "You might want to pull up your fly while you're at it."

"Oh- Sorry." Michael followed him, struggling with a slick metal zip.

' _Scratch that. Fucking asshole.'_

_~_

"I'm obviously gonna pick sport, ain't I, B?"

Dan crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back in his chair. "You gotta pick at least two though, don't ya?"

"Drama, then." Gavin kicked himself inwardly as he blurted out the option, looking away suddenly. "I mean, maybe, I don't know."

" _You_ want to take theatre?" The broader student simply began to laugh, whacking Gavin playfully, managing to get out a sentence before returning to chuckles. "Theatre's for girls, you moron."

Dan got up out his chair, irises sparkling mischievously as he faced his friend, mocking a poetic stance and speaking loudly. "O Gavino, Gavino! Where art thou, Gavino?"

The class burst into laughter at Dan's bizarre re-enactment of the famous Shakespeare play, even Mr Sorella grinning slightly at his least favourite student's own special excerpt of Romeo and Juliet.

"Shut up, you prick." Gavin laughed from his seat, trying to ignoring the sinking feeling of hurt grounding around his stomach as Dan sat back down.

"I don't think any of the sixth formers in our form are even taking it to be honest, B." Dan continued, the room returning to their own groups of chatter.

"Joel Heyman is." One of the boys sat behind Dan and Gavin joined their conversation, turning in his chair and calling across the classroom. "Aren't you, Joel?"

Joel, who hadn't so much as shared a smirk for either Gavin or Dan behaviour throughout the years, jerked his head once in response, his religious stare unwavering from the sky.

"He's such a weirdo…" The second lad behind the two football players grumbled, out of Joel's ear shot, pulling an unimpressed face towards the sixth former. "All he does is look out that fucking window…"

"I guess drama's for girls _and_ fags, then." Dan commented, kicking the side of the table, the vibrations of pinging metal erupting up the table's legs.

The dark-haired football player swung further back on his chair, arms returning to being crossed behind his head.

Gavin laughed dryly, looking over at Joel in hidden jealousy. "Guess he was the number one spot for the fag list, then."

"Hey Joel!" Dan called out across the classroom. "Why do you always look out of that stupid window anyways?"

Joel just shrugged, refusing to meet the raven-haired boy's attention.

The classroom door opened, Michael Jones walking in quickly. His head was bowed, breathing a little heavier than normal.

The class, however, were uncaring for Michael's lateness as he approached his form tutor. "Sorry I'm late, Sir."

"Don't make a habit out of it, go to your seat." Mr Sorolla replied, scrolling through reddit, not bothering to look up.

"Yes, Sir." Michael walked towards Joel, catching Gavin's eyesight and smiling at him weakly, only to be met with a disgusted grimace and Gavin's head turning away from him.

The teen looked crestfallen, looking at the floor and pulling at his blue-coloured hoodie.

Joel, whose focus had, for once, changed from the sky to the classroom, watched the encounter carefully, calculating the correct way to respond to the matter at hand.

Michael pulled back his chair, sitting down and pulling his bag over his head, where dark rings were cut under his brown eyes.

"You're too good for him, Michael." The words poured steadily from Joel's mouth, Michael's head shooting upwards to see he was the centre of Joel's attention, the older pupil's eyes catching his own.

"What?" Michael felt warmth greet his cheeks.

"For Gavin." Joel made his objective clear and repeated his statement. "You're too good for him."

"I-"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me." Joel interrupted, a rare, but small smile he usually reserved for his boyfriend pulling at the corners of his lips. "I just wanted you to know, whatever happens, it's him who is in the wrong."

Michael's mouth dropped, he had so many questions he wanted to ask the student, but before he could the bell rang and was Joel out of his seat before Michael could get out a word, leaving the classroom swiftly, his black backpack hanging over one shoulder.

"Assembly tomorrow! Don't forget!" Mr Sorolla yelled at the students as they left, Michael sat alone as the class filed away, still in shock from Joel's words.

The sixth former in question, however, was now walking away from his form room to class, quietly stalking Gavin as a side objective.

He was waiting patiently for him to separate from his friends to walk to Geography, just like he did every Thursday.

"See ya, Gav." Dan spoke, waving a lazy hand as he walked away with Ben to History.

Joel sighed languidly, keeping his pace steady. His ability to remember small details about everyone else's business was indeed helpful in times like these, but trying not to voice personal things he couldn't help but know about people he didn't know too well from _their_ loud conversations was, overall, a massive pain in his arse.

Pulling off his rucksack Joel pulled Gavin's trainer and socks from his bag, quickening his pace towards the boy, trying to hide the fact he had rehearsed this a million times this morning, trying to fit the part.

Reaching Gavin, Joel's mind went into the zone he usually kept for the Drama Studio and pushed Gavin to the side, out of the way of the heaving crowd and into a wall.

Joel hardened his expression and pushed the items into the 16-year-old's chest, making sure not to lose eye contact.

Gavin grasped the garments being pushed upon him, confusion and panic beginning to form on his face as he looked back up to see an unhappy looking Joel staring strongly back.

The older boy spoke calmly, but every word was laced with cold, calculated venom. "You touch Ray again, I tell _everyone_."

With that Joel released the boy; feeling satisfied with the younger's reaction, glad his premeditated plan went to the letter.

Gavin shoved the trainer and socks into his bag, ignoring the curious looks of the younger years around him and pushing a rather small looking boy out of his way in frustration as worry chewed up his insides.

' **How the fuck did Heyman get his hands on my stuff?'**

~

"Quiet, please" Mr Oum spoke gravely at his form, large bags etched under his drooping eyelids, the few who were snickering soon going silent.

It was a dreary Friday morning, and the classes of year eleven were all piling into the hall to listen to their weekly assembly, hosted today by their wonderful Head Teacher.

The man in question, Mr Ramsey, was stood slumped over at the front of the hall, his elbows resting on the theatre stage behind him. His secretary, Miss Eberle, stood to the Head Teacher's left, clutching a file to her chest as people filed quietly into their seats.

Form tutors with glazed over expressions leaned against the halls walls, next to their form groups, keeping their individual classes silent.

The chairs were evenly spaced on each side of the room; a wide gap being left in-between the two rows of chairs for teacher's taking the assembly to walk up and down as they spoke.

A group of three students sat together, whispering and snickering between themselves at the back of the hall, believing to be hidden behind the masses of students at in front of them.

Mr Ramsey pushed off the stage, hundreds of young pupils staring back at him, waiting for his next action.

The man sighed languidly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Dark bags were etched darkly under the man's drooped eyelids, cracking open his eyes the man gathered as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

"Good morning, Year Ten." The man boomed, walking confidently between the students, reaching the end of the hall in six long strides.

"Eleven." A small voice piped up at the front of the hall, Miss Ereble smiling brightly at the welcomed attention of the year group, some snickering at the older teacher's mistake.

"Of course, of course..." Geoff immediately retaliated, stood at the back of the room, swinging up his arms. "You all grow up so fast it's hard to keep bloody track!"

The tired man smiled a small, strained smile in Kara's direction as thanks before stopping at the row to his left.

"Now. Before I begin my assembly on the fascination and wonder of..." Mr Ramsey trailed off, looking dazed for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together. He glanced at Kara who opened her mouth to answer before closing it again, panic crossing her features as she opened her file, speedily whizzing through papers.

"Um, um, well..." Miss Erble's panic began to rise further as she began to make worried noises trying to find the answer.

"Why... not... to..." The young woman blushed a pale pink skimming around the room for inspiration, Geoff's red eyes sparking an idea. "do drugs?"

The entire hall was deadly silent, all eyes back to their Head Teacher who pushed his hands into his slacks, nodding slowly before replying. "Yes. Yes. I like that. Today's assembly will be on why you should absolutely, positively... Not do drugs."

Kara grit her teeth into a smile, nodding quickly in response before residing backwards into the shadows alongside the forms tutors.

"Now. Chris, Kerry, Miles." Geoff pointed at each boy who were all sat together in whispered conversation. "Please. You seem to be very talkative this morning, tell your year group why you shouldn't do drugs. One reason for each of you."

The three sat paralysed as Geoff stared them down.

"Don't want to?" The head called mockingly, grabbing onto the end chair where a confused looking brown-haired girl squeaked quietly as Geoff leaned over her chair, not really caring that he was squishing her slightly, getting closer to the three teens with dangerous eyes.

The three simply sat in silence, unsure of the best answer

"Well then." Mr Ramsey finished, straightening up and loosening his tie a bit, strolling back towards the front.

"YOU'VE ALL BEEN HERE 5 BLOODY YEARS! DON'T TALK IN ASSEMBLY!" The Head's voice cracked slightly as he yelled an octave higher than usual, throwing his hands upwards enthusiastically, causing most students to flinch in their seats.

He grabbed on the front of the steep stage, pulling himself upwards, not bothering to take the stairs located, and both easily reachable, at each side of the open curtains. He walked into the centre, a reddened face not as young as it used to be.

"Right." The man's voice was easily portrayed around the room, the booming undertone recognizable by everyone in the room, both feared and respected. "If I have to do this shit, we're doing it right."

The man threw off his brown coloured jacket, rolling up his dress shirt sleeves to reveal the intricate designs skilfully laced by needle and ink into his pale flesh.

"Okay, so I'm gonna make this very clear for you guys." Geoff began to pace up and down the stage, gesturing to the entire room, unfazed by the familiar looks of certain teachers who didn't approve of his methods. Amusement clearly danced on many students faces, all looking to the man's next move.

"Cocaine? Dead as dicks. Heroin? Dead as dicks. Ecstasy? Dead as dicks. Dodgy prescriptions? Dead as dicks. Tobacco? Dead as dicks." The man continued to walk steadily over the stage, counting the drugs on his left hand and simply shrugging when he announced causally the death that would ensure as pupils sat in awe, not knowing whether to take the man seriously or laugh.

"Weed? urrrrr.." Geoff stopped in his tracks and began to shake his hand left and right, pulling a thoughtful face.

Miss Eberle suddenly jogged forwards, throwing herself in front of the stage, just below where the man was standing.

"DEAD AS...UM... WELL... DICKS!" She announced loudly to the room, turning slightly to her employer and making a cut symbol with her hand over her neck at the man, pulling an infuriated expression before smiling wildly back at the hall's attendance and hurrying away with her head hung low.

"Yes. Dead-as-dicks." Geoff nodded at the phrase, trailing off into an uncomfortable silence for everyone in the room but himself for several minutes before exploding his voice outwards again. "WELL. ANY QUESTIONS?"

Every student sat wide eyed with their mouths closed, knowing better than any year in the school to not ask the man a question without having to go through the embarrassment of a lifetime.

However a hand in the middle of the crowd drifted upwards lazily, the owner feet resting on the small gap in the back of each chair kicking the boy in front of him.

Mr Ramsey exhaled loudly and pushed his hands into the back pockets of his trousers, slumping to the side. "Yes, Gavin?"

"What about alcohol, sir? They say that's a drug, don't they?" Gavin's crooked grin shone easily through the crowd, quiet laughter erupting here and there in the hall, most people looking away from the head teacher, trying to cover their smirks.

The attention calmed Gavin's ragged nerves like it always did as he settled back into his chair, awaiting the man's answer.

Geoff just stared at the boy for a long time, trying to figure out what he was trying to achieve before responding.

"You know what?" The raven-haired man jumped of the stage with ease, the loud smack of his shoes colliding with the polished wooden floor causing some cringes as Geoff bent his knees and strode forward, walking it off. "We're all gonna be dead as dicks someday anyway, so go do whatever the fuck you want."

Gavin's Uncle removed his hands from his pockets, turning sharply at the end of the hall and shrugging, raising his eyebrows, the wrinkles on his forehead becoming more prominent as he pulled a 'Let's be honest, I don't give two shits' face.

He walked back on himself, this time placing one hand in a front pocket and waving around the other. "Just don't come crying to me when you're 39, addicted to drugs, got a kid you can't afford and can't go a day without drinking yourself into stupidity."

"Isn't that just you though, Sir?" Gavin fired back loudly, the laughter growing louder, even some of the teacher's beginning to coughing to themselves, turning away from slightly, hiding their faces.

"For your information, Gavin, I am 38. _And_ very much not addictedto _certain_ drugs." Geoff began to laugh, the rest of the hall laughing with him as the bell rang through the assembly hall, signaling the start of period one.

"Okay, there's the bell, now hurry up and get your asses to lesson." Students mumbled to each other as the back rows began to lead out of the door doors on each side of the hall, and into the dining room where their bags rested on tables.

Geoff smiled and began to stride towards his secretary, stopping suddenly at the noise, jerking back the head. "IN SILENCE!"

The room went quiet as remaining pupils filed off, form tutors pushing past them to rush to their lessons.

"So, how was that?" Geoff asked casually, throwing himself next to Miss Ererble, leaning against the painted concrete wall.

"Very... unique, Sir." The woman smiled at the head teacher warmly. "As always."

"I don't know what Gavin was all riled up about though." Geoff commented, reshuffling his hair.

Kara inhaled quickly through her nose, letting the breath out after a moment's contemplation. "When is your nephew _not_ riled up though."

"True."

"By the way, Mrs Anderson was attending the assembly at the back, looking into slotting her two daughters into a place in year 10, next term."

"Oh." Geoff squinted his eyes, looking around the room. "She seems to have left."

Mrs. Erbele swallowed a choke of laughter, fiddling with the file in her hands. "Yes, it seems she has."

"I wonder why..."

"As do I, Sir."

"Do you reckon she's just waiting for us outside the hall?"

"I highly doubt it, Sir."

"Oh."

Kara smiled at Geoff's perplexed expression, glancing upwards at the clock briefly and ushering the large man out of the hall briskly to begin his Head Teacher duties.

~

Michael glanced at his phone, it was 5:39pm, football practise had ended 10 minutes ago and he was stood just inside the back way to Church watching as players left the changing rooms, sweaty and clothed in wrinkled school uniforms.

The redhead began to tap his foot, waiting impatiently for Gavin to exit. He'd managed to convince Ray to get a lift with Joel without him, so no one was going to be any the wiser of his actions.

He hoped.

' _Where the fuck is he?'_

Michael kicked the back of his shoe against the whitewashed wall, dirtying the paint slightly.

After finding the library closed early today the teen had been passing his time leaning against the inside wall, playing angry birds, failing miserably and messaging Lindsey and Ray in a group chat.

Minutes passed, more boys exiting the doors.

Michael wondered that if he went in, would he find Gavin was alone in there or not?

Dan strolled out, Ben talking animatedly alongside him as they walked.

' _He must definitely be alone now.'_ Michael decided.

The teen pushed open the back doors he was hiding behind tentatively, looking around to make sure no one saw him before slipping outside and through the changing room doors.

Entering the locker rooms Michael found Gavin stood at the far end of the room, wrestling with a bag, trying to fit the his football top next to several books, and failing at it miserably.

Michael walked silently towards him, Gavin so enthralled in his problems he didn't feel Michael's presence behind him until the boy spoke up. "Gavin?"

The green eyed teen whizzed around, dropping the rucksack to the floor, both his PE clothes and books sliding out onto the floor.

Gavin swallowed, looking away from the other. "What do you want?"

"I-" Michael closed his mouth, already not wanting to make eye-contact with the overpowering boy. He could already feel heat on his ears, unsure himself what he wanted to achieve by coming here. "Is this- do we- Look, are we something now or not?"

Gavin took in a long breath of air before letting it rush out of his lungs again, bending down slowly and re-packing clothes into his bag, trying to make his voice sound threatening. "What do you think?"

"I don't know." Michael watched the Brit for a moment, swinging his own bag off his shoulders to the side, shuffling further forward and dropping to his knees, gathering Gavin's books. "That's why I came- to find out."

_'God, that sounded so fucking gay.'_

Michael swallowed and ignored his thoughts as stubble covered face looked up briefly, wondering why Michael was helping him.

Gavin caught the other's gaze and quickly dropped it, the smaller teenager mirroring his actions, a blush flowering on each of their faces.

"Look, Michael." Gavin started, wanting to say so many things but not knowing where to start. "You know- There is- I-"

God, Gavin liked Michael.

He really did.

And not just because of the sex they had shared, in fact, to say the least, he was _jealous_ of the likes of Ray and Lindsey being able to be in his presence without being ridiculed.

The redhead was attractive, kind, stood up for his friends, didn't care about the latest trends or fashion crazes, stayed by what he believed in, didn't give two shits what people said about him _and_ even after everything he and Dan had done to him in the past, he hadn't breathed a word of their night together to anyone.

As far as Gavin knew anyway, Joel had to have found out somehow.

Michael waited patiently for the other to finish, putting the books he had collected in a pile in front of him, drawing his hands back and resting on the front of his legs, curling them into loose fists.

Michael cared about Gavin, and to be perfectly honest he had no idea why, but that night, Michael had seen a side to the 16-year-old he had never seen at school, one of tenderness, uncertainty and vulnerability.

He had been so vulnerable and Michael was sure there was something more to it.

"Look, Gavin." The tall boy's head rose upwards at the serious tone of Michael's voice, trying to speak but only managing to swallow hard in response as the kneeling student continued. "If you want me too, and I think you do, I can just leave and pretend like nothing ever happened between us."

Gavin swallowed again, his mind soaring, so much to say pinging around his skull but not a word leaving his mouth.

"I just-" Michael choked, taking a shaky breath and looking away. "I just thought-"

Gavin mind was screaming, mouth lying open, millions of feelings consuming his being like a tidal wave.

**'Thought what? You thought** _**what** _ **?'**

"I thought we- I thought you cared." Michael finished, rouge covering his face and the tips of his ears, the boy tightly holding his breath.

Gavin was speechless; he didn't know what to say.

Gavin felt like he cared, but he must be mistaken, right?

Of course he was mistaken, these feelings were meant for a girl.

For Barbara.

How was Gavin supposed to care about some stupid American he'd only met two months ago?

And a fag to top it all off.

A fag Gavin and the guys had been beating on.

A fag Gavin had shared a bed with.

A fag Gavin cared about.

Michael pushed himself up from the floor, Gavin's contorted face painting a picture at how wrong Michael had been to come here.

A breath, Michael guessed was disappointment, left his own lips.

The boy let his body language and facial expression cool into an unreadable nothingness as he reshuffled the bag that hung over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gavin."

_'Couldn't I just have this one thing?'_

Michael shrank back into his role of silent loner, wrapping numb fingers around the yellow strap above Fluttershy. He tried desperately not to cry as he spat out a lousy 'goodnight', turning and leaving Gavin's crumpled boy, still sat on the floor.

_'Just one fucking thing.''_

The boy on the floor barely acknowledged Michael's words as the flush-haired pupil turned to leave.

Gavin's eyes were still wide, his weak heart thumping painfully against his ribcage.

The gangly boy looked up, Michael's turned body slowly trudging towards the exit.

Trudging away from everything they had shared.

Trudging away from Gavin.

' **No. No. He can't leave. He can't. He can't. I-'**

"Michael, wait!-" Gavin threw himself from the cold ground, his arm outstretched, face desperately clinging to what they had shared, whatever it was that they had together.

Trainer's pounded on the ground, the muddy floor smearing under steady thuds.

Michael turned, Gavin's hand reaching for him.

The earth slowed, Michael's sharp intake of breath breaking their silence, Gavin's mouth catching his own.

A ripple of emotion erupted across the smaller boy chest, pieces of Gavin's kiss splintering off, and embedding themselves deep inside Michael's heart, the few walls he had left up, collapsing around him.

Gavin's fingers were grasped around the front of Michael's hoodie, pulling him upwards, the redhead's feet barely touching the ground.

Gavin's eyelids were squeezed shut so tight it hurt.

Michael's eyes however were wide and shaking, blinking slowly, his lungs beginning to scream for relief, the _drip-drip-drip_ from the tap the only whisper of their encounter.

Hazy rays slipped through small cloudy windows, left behind bags and perspiration-stained clothes hanging from chipped, green painted pegs.

The football player pulled back, eyes fluttering open to meet a red-faced, fast breathing, wide-eyed partner.

"M-michael..?"

The boy in question let out a long, deep sigh he didn't realise he had been holding in for years.

Waiting for this moment.

Waiting for this emotion.

' _Fuck.'_

Michael brought his hand up to Gavin's face as a speechless response, the heat from his face beginning to dissipate as Gavin's grew.

"I- I- I hope you don't mind" The other began to stutter, cursing himself for being such a mess around the smaller boy as Michael's thumb grazed over his cheek.

A small, but genuine, smile pulled at the corners of Michael's mouth, a flash of tooth visible just under the cupid bow of his lips. "Not at all, you fucking asshole."

The taller released his grip and rested a hand on the other's lifted forearm gently, laughing breathlessly. His second palm he brought further up, cupping the freckled boy's cheek, leaning closer to other's face, his eye's slowly sliding shut for another kiss, his breaths slivering heat over Michael's face.

Michael responded by pushing up onto the tips of his toes, fluttering his own eyelashes closed, his mouth slightly ajar, waiting for warmth of Gavin's lips against his once again.

The door to the changing room slammed open, interrupting the moment of silence. "Hey B! Your Dad's waiting in the car, are you coming or wha-"

Dan's pupils grew, the boy's mouth dropping open as he stopping walking, a box full of football boots slipping from his strong arms, the shoes scattering onto the laminate floor.

Gavin eyes shot open, wide with shock, Michael's breathing stopping in his throat, the hand on his waist and face close to touching his own pulling away sharply.

The lanky boy's mind raced, time slowing, he was going to lose Dan, he was going to lose _everything_.

Gavin looked down at Michael, the younger's boys face contorted in worry.

Gavin had to make a decision.

Michael or his family.

The football player brought his hand together in a fist, slamming Michael's hand away from his cheek, his knuckle gliding through the air and colliding with the other's mouth.

He had chosen family.

Even though Gavin had made the choice wholeheartedly and was fully ready to accept the consequences of his actions, regret still slid into his stomach, the weaker teen in front of him falling to the floor.

Gavin bent down and gripped Michael by the scruff of his collar, dragging him up so his face met his Michael's, betrayal and hurt shimmering in the redhead's eyes.

' _Why?'_

"Stay away from me, you stupid faggot!" Gavin roared, stood firmly above Michael's crumbling body, throwing a second punch that burst the student's bottom lip again, blood spewing onto the floor.

The coffee-haired teen rose, blood staining in between the knuckles of his right hand. He landed a finishing blow into Michael's side with his trainer, spitting mercilessly on his broken form.

' _Why not just this fucking once?'_

The lanky Brit swerved around, snatching up his bag and swaying it onto his back, striding away from Michael, pushing down the urge to look behind. He pushed past Dan, shallow aggression stitched onto a stony grimace. "C'mon, Dan."

The well-built teen stared after Gavin as he stormed out of the changing rooms, his glance drifting over to the overpowered boy on the floor that was curled into himself, cowering.

Dan almost felt a sting of sympathy across his chest as he watched Michael, shaking it off immediately and repacking the boots back into the cardboard box, kicking it aside for the night, leaving hurriedly after his best friend.

Sniffling, Michael let the hot liquid pouring from his eyes trickle onto the floor.

' _I thought you cared.'_

_~_

The bathroom light flickered weakly, its artificial light contrasting sharply against the dark sky that glaring into the house through an open window. The moon was high, the rock's chilling white surface glowing eerily alongside the twinkling stars.

A bone-chilling breeze slid into the small room, the flimsy, metal blinds rattling again the surface of the glass from the gentle push.

Specks of crimson littered the cold, colourless floor, growing in size as they moved closer and closer to the dripping tap in the centre of the room.

Shaky hands clutched the sink's porcelain, head bowed over, pressing a cheek against the cool metal of the faucet.

He had tried _so_ hard.

So fuckinghard.

A second, colder gust of wind rushed in through the window frame, but the inhabitant of the tiled room didn't shiver.

A broken shell of a razor lay under the sink, fragments of white plastic being eloped by red, the pool they sat in spreading across the floor as more rose-coloured liquid fell steadily from the edge of the basin.

The basin itself was stained, the broken boy's salty tears leaving messy streaks of orange-yellow on the red-painted surface.

_'What's the point?'_

Joel words slithered into the boy's mind.

_..._

" _Whatever happens, it's him who is in the wrong."_

_..._

' _No, this has nothing to do with Gavin; this is to do with me.'_

Michael looked up at himself in the mirror, bloodshot, red eyes boring into his, his glasses lying alone on his kitchen table.

The pale skin on his wrists contrasted harshly with the colour oozing from the slits he had created.

The colour of Michael's hair, that stuck to his tear and sweat covered face, was nothing in comparison to this shade.

He looked downwards at his shirtless body, his white belly protruding slightly at the bottom against the ring of his trousers.

_'Fuck, I'm fat.'_

Michael sucked in his gut, cheeks hollow as he held his breath.

It was no wonder he couldn't defend himself, or even run a meter in PE.

...

" _Podgy little Michael Jones."_

...

Red hair shook along with Michael's head, quickly suppressing unwanted memories, he couldn't break down again.

He couldn't.

The boy sniffled, roughly wiping away the remaining trickles of tears and touching the forming bruise on his face weakly, smearing a small trickle blood onto his face.

God, he hated his freckles.

And his hair.

And his eyesight.

He hated everything about himself really.

Self-loathing began to course through his veins again, begging to be released, but no matter how much the boy cut slits to set it free, more and more continued to build up.

The razor glinted dully next to the drain in the bright light, the crimson of Michael's blood rusting into the blade's steel.

What if he ended it?

Ended everything right now.

The beatings, the names, the flashbacks, the mounting depression, the battle against the blade.

The self-loathing that seemed to swallow him whole nearly every night.

A shaky bloodstained hand trembled upwards, pulling open the medicine cabinet: empty.

' _Of course it is.'_

Michael's mother knew him too well, knew not to keep dangerous amounts of drugs in reachable places.

But the teen knew better than that, he knew his mother was depressed, he saw how she tried to hide it from him, how she thought Michael didn't know about her and her daily dose of prozac.

But Michael wasn't a child anymore, and he certainly wasn't stupid.

He knew what he had to do.

Taking the fiddly blade, red-tipped fingers dropped it into the wastebasket, twirling a tap's handle to the highest setting.

Cold water rushed into the sink, washing away the temporary mark of the boy's pain, the cool metal of the tap head feeling nice against Michael's hand as he began to carefully wash his wounds, hands and face.

The icy liquid numbed his senses, letting him push out the hurt, to feel nothing.

Reaching for the cupboard above his toilet, Michael took a tightly rolled gauze from the back, ripping it unevenly to size wrapping it around his wrists for the last time, sat, hunched over the toilet lid.

He looked down; his pyjama pants tarnished with blotches of scarlet.

Leaving the small room briefly, the teen soon returned, wearing clean boxers and carrying a cloth, bleach and a bottle of pills from a cupboard under his mother's bedside table.

Michael set the pills on the side of the sink began to clean the floor.

The strong scent of bleach pierced Michael's raw nostrils as he moved the cloth up and down the tiled floor, watching the colours turn from red, to pink, to nothing.

More cold water poured, cleaning the cloth and Michael's hands, the stink of cleaning agent still clinging to the room, causing the boy to open a window to air it out.

He took the cloth back to the kitchen, this time returning with a sleeping bag and glass, setting the clear coloured pint-cup next to the small bottle of pills, he zipped open the thick fabric of the sleeping bag, lining the bathtub with it, mind on autopilot.

Michael tipped a dribble of bleach into the glass; returning the large plastic bottle to kitchen. He emptied clean dishes from the dishwasher, reloading it with dirty and putting everything back where it belonged.

Remembering his mother complaining about the state of living room, Michael hovered around carefully, wiping down around the television and on top of tables with a damp cloth, wincing slightly as his arms ached from the labour.

Unplugging his Xbox, the boy found a cardboard box from his move, placing the console, controllers and all of his games into it. He placed it on his kitchen countertop and labelling it, 'For Ray & Lindsey.' with a chunky marker pen.

Finally Michael took the box of money from under his bed, opening it and looking as the hundreds of dollars that stared back at him.

They were worthless to him at this moment, but the redhead knew his Mom could have them changed into pounds at the bank and wasn't like he was going to need it anymore.

Blood started to seep from Michael's bandages, but he ignored it, ripping a page from his English workbook and scribbling an already well-thought, but short letter, shoving it underneath his metal money box.

Michael returned to the bathroom, his chest thumping with anticipation as he finally realised how close death was.

How close he was to ending it.

Everything started to turn woozy from the overwhelming feelings, the boy's sight blurring around the edges.

The echo of water rushing bounced around the tiled walls.

The filling a glass.

The creak of the tap being shut off.

The pop of a plastic bottle.

The rattle of pills.

The thunk of an empty white container hitting the floor.

Hurried gulps.

The sound of choking as burning ripped open a throat.

Low, raspy gasps for air.

The world seemed so far away.

Michael felt for the bath, slipping into the fabric covered plastic.

Something wet dribbled down the boy's chin and onto his chest.

' _Was that blood or puke?'_

Somehow Michael didn't care.

Everything was fine.

Ray would have Joel.

Lindsey would have Ray.

His mother would have peace.

The last thing Michael heard was a blood curdling scream before the drug-induced world of love and self-worth swallowed him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about how slow the posting of this is, I'm not even sure if my internet is going to be stable enough for me to even post this...  
> Fucking wifi. x_x


	6. Treat him right.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After he stood on the stand against his violent father on charges of assault and rape, a broken 16-year-old Michael Jones, alongside his mother, have been placed under witness protection and moved to a small town called RoosterTeeth in the South-East of England, things seem to be looking up and Michael is enrolled in the local school Achievement Hunter High. However Achievement Hunters is ending up to be just another headache for Michael, it’s week one and he's already having to deal with a certain drunken head teacher ruling over the place without a care in the world, people teaching him classes he's one hundred percent sure aren't qualified and some asshole called Gavin who seems to have picked Michael as his newest victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All illustrations done in this chapter are done by the fabulous Anya! (frecklesandbignoses.tumblr.com)

Gavin's eyes moved lazily under closed eyelids, a long sigh exiting his lips as he drifted into reality.

The sun had yet to rise outside the teen's bedroom window, the sky still glaringly dark through the gap in Gavin's half-closed curtains.

The sleepy boy's first reaction was to feel for his phone, bringing the device up from under his sheets and clicking the lock, its bright light almost blinding him. He blinked blearily, his morning eyesight reading the date and time.

' **05:28 am. Monday morning. Fucking** _ **top**_ **.'**

A low groan drifted upwards from under Gavin sheets, his lanky legs hanging off the side of the bed, the skin of his toes, all the way up to his knees, bare to the unpredictable English chills.

The high school student continued to roll over, closer to the edge of his bed so he could search underneath the wooden frame of the bed for his laptop.

It was too early to get up yet and once Gavin was awake his fast moving mind made it very hard from him to drift back to sleep.

Pushing hazelnut coloured locks of bed hair away from his forehead with his other hand, Gavin was met with nothing but his charger, remembering vaguely something about his father wanting to use the device the night before.

With a moan of frustration Gavin sprawled backwards, his eyebrows creasing together under closed eyes.

The next thing the exhausted teen was aware of was the brightness outside his bedroom window, the sun shining into his room.

Gavin sat straight up, fumbling with his phone.

7:45.

' **Oh shit.'**

The wide-eyed boy had gone from having a couple of hours to drag himself out of bed to just 15 minutes.

Pulling himself from his slumber, Gavin made quick work of throwing on bits of school uniform lying around the room, spraying over any unpleasant, clinging fragrances from unwashed dress shirts with generous amounts of Lynx.

Gavin shuffled into the bathroom to wash his face stubble-covered face, clean his teeth and contemplate brushing down his messy hair. He ended up deciding to just run his hair through his fingers a couple of times and not to bother, making his way downstairs.

Gavin trailed his hand along the rough wallpaper as he bounded down each step of his carpeted stairway. His schoolbooks were held loosely in his other hand, waiting to be thrown into his empty rucksack he knew was waiting for him on the kitchen floor.

Stopping in the living room to wake up Dan, Gavin was met with an empty room, the duvet the other had been using rolled up at the end of the sofa.

The boy shrugged, guessing his best friend was in the kitchen, being surprised again by the sight of just his father sat at their dingy little table, Gavin's laptop sat in front of him.

The greying man drinked the dregs of his coffee, setting the chipped porcelain mug next to the laptop with a loud clunk.

Gavin dropped his books behind the Dell unceremoniously, opening the up bare fridge and searching for something to fill his grumbling belly.

The student began to scratch under his chin lazily, a yawn escaping his lips. "Where's Dan?"

"He packed up earlier this morning; his mother wanted him to go home."

Gavin frowned. "Oh, did he leave long ago?"

' **He didn't even come up to say bye...'**

Mr Free just stared unimpressively back at his son, not answering his question.

Gavin closed the fridge and turned, looking about, confused. "What?"

"You have thirty seconds to explain yourself." Tom spoke calmly, sending chills up the younger's spine.

Gavin swallowed dryly.

"Explain what?"

"Twenty."

"Dad, I'm confused."

"Ten."

"Dad, please…"

The PE teacher twisted round the laptop monitor, all of the colour from Gavin's cheeks draining away.

He'd forgotten to click off the web browser last night.

' **Shit.'**

Gavin's step father slammed the laptop's lid down hard, making Gavin flinch violently.

He walked slowly towards the boy in front of him, so calm it was scary.

The man leant forward, his breath tickling Gavin's nose. "I always knew you were a faggot."

' **Don't cry. Don't you dare.'**

"I want you gone by tonight." The taller boy held his breath, begging himself not to cry as the man he would do anything for, continued to speak. "Do you understand me? I will not be sleeping under the same roof as someone like you."

Gavin just stayed silent, knowing if he opened to mouth to speak he would sob.

Tom grew angry at his silence, grabbing the gangly teen by his collar and smashing him against the magnet covered metal of the fridge.

Picture frames of their once whole and happy family shaking from the impact on the kitchen wall. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND, BOY?"

Nodding violently the terrified boy managed a small 'yes' before the still fuming man un-handed him, letting Gavin's body slump to the floor.

"I always knew you could never be a son of mine." Tom picked up his work things.

"You _disgust_ me." Gavin looked up as the words left the other's mouth, Tom not even sparing him a second glance as he left.

Gavin sat alone on the frozen kitchen floor, not sure what to think as hurt chewed up his insides.

A door slam caused the student to flinch, pulling himself from the ground, feeling like he was about to cry.

Everything had changed, so suddenly, so quickly.

He didn't know what to do.

What even was there to do?

Then it hit him.

If his Dad didn't want him anymore, then he didn't have to worry about staying with him for Raven's sake.

The promise he had made three years ago with his dying mother was now invalid.

It didn't matter.

Gavin felt happiness spread across his face, deciding the situation wasn't so bad after all.

Smiling genuinely for the first time in a long time, Gavin Free dusted himself off, closing his laptop lid and opening the kitchen window.

Gavin decided to eat the last of the grapes at the back of his empty fridge, packing his bag.

The boy set off to school on foot, soon enough reaching the front of the school, just as form was finishing, feeling as though he was in a daze the entire journey there.

' **I can't wait to tell Michael...'**

Gavin stopped smiling, guilt washing over him and intoxicating his mind as he remembered.

' **Stupid- Stupid- Stupid!'**

First things first, Gavin needed to find the redheaded boy and apologize to him.

~

" _Where did he even go?"_

" _Seriously, what is up with this fucking sheet?"_

" _Do you reckon he'll come back?"_

" _To be honest, I'm glad he's gone…"_

It was Friday period one and Mr Sorolla's class were running amok in the older teacher's IT suite, located in Tucker, waiting for the tanned middle-aged man to return.

Gavin was sat next to Barbara; who was, at this moment in time, currently filing her nails furiously, ignoring Gavin's existence to the best of her ability.

Guilt continued to churn in the tall teenager's stomach every time he looked at the girl, at last gathering the courage to speak up. "Barbie."

Barbara could feel her walls start to break at the sound of her ex-boyfriend's desperate voice, but made herself stay strong, concentrating on the angle of her file.

"Barbie... _please_..."

"I am not talking to you." Barbara spat, turning her head back around as quickly as she had turned it in Gavin's direction, her fluffy blonde hair moving with the sharp movement.

"I just want to be friends." Gavin continued, touching the young girl's shoulder from behind. "You must remember right? Back to before all this stupid shit happened. Back when what we said, how we acted or what we wore didn't bloody matter: when it was just me, you and Dan."

Barbara looked backwards at one of the most important people in her life, their meaningful conversation unheard through the chaos of the busy classroom.

Their words drowned out; only carrying for the two of them to share.

"Before Mum died." Gavin carried on his plea for the girls forgiveness. "Before your dad packed up and left. Before Dan's dad got locked up."

The girl's eyes softened, a sigh leaving her soft lips. "I wish it could go back too, Gav. I really do."

Gavin held his breath, waiting for her to continue.

"But life doesn't work that way. Life's a bitch and you need to get over it." Barbara finished, her icy blue eyes meeting Gavin's. "So why should I forgive _you_?"

"Because I-"

**'I'm sorry I hit you.'**

The words refused to part from Gavin's ragged lips.

Barbara held the other's gaze.

Some students screamed past the two, throwing paper at each other, the white noise of the room not even piercing slightly into the skin of Barbara and Gavin's conversation.

"Because you-"

**'are one of my best friends.'**

Why was it so hard?

The petite blonde just nodded, face crumpling, taking a deep breath she leaned closer to Gavin, hissing angrily at him. "That's what I thought."

Gavin was horror stricken.

Barbara was turning away from him again.

Turning away for the last time.

Gavin's hand shot out again to catch her arm. "Barbie, I'm trying- I just-"

"Well it's not good enough, Gavin." Ignoring the rising feeling of hurt in her chest, Barbara tore her arm away. " _Why_ , Gavin? Why would you reject me like that?"

The pleaing boy's eyes just shook in response, feeling the piercing daggers of betrayal sinking into his flesh from Barbara's tone.

Lowering her voice and scrunching up her nose, disgust Barbara leaned in for the second time. " _Hit_ me even?"

"I'm sorry-"

"That's not good enough."

The male could feel it deep in his stomach, the bubbling feeling of frustration and hurt, how the hell was he suppose to make it up to Barbara?

What else did she fucking want from him?

All he could do was apologize.

The lid on the pot of Gavin's rage had moved quite a few times over the years, letting out steam in the form of Gavin's small, glazed over outbursts here and there, but the point had come where it was ready to pour over, the lid was ready to be exploded off and Gavin had had enough.

"Not good enough?" Clenched fists shook dangerously under Gavin's computer desk, words escaping through gritted teeth. "You want to know what's not good enough?"

Gavin's eyes turned malicious and cold. "You."

Barbara's expression turned worrisome as she pulled away from Gavin's violent stance.

"I didn't ask for any of this you know." Gavin began, the pent up stress being to ping off in his body.

"I never wanted to fuck you. I never even wanted to date you to start with! I hate football. I _hate_ it. But here I am; bloody captain of the team! I have had to live for years with a man that I am terrified off because of a stupid, insignificant pinky promise with dead fucking mother, even though Geoff says I don't have to! I want to taking Drama for A-level, but here I am, once again doing sports studies, a subject I DON'T EVEN BLOODY LIKE! THE ONE THING. THE ONE THING I HAD LEFT THAT REMINDED ME OF THE GOOD MEMORIES OF MUM YOU SMASHED AGAINST MY BEDROOM WALL. I COULDN'T EVEN PUT IT BACK TOGETHER AGAIN! I SAT THERE FOR HOURS TRYING TO, BARBARA. FUCKING. HOURS." Gavin breathed throatily, slamming an aggravated hand onto the desk,

Gavin hadn't realised he was yelling and now the entire class was silently watching him, mouths open and wide eyed.

Mr Sorolla had returned and was stood in the hallway of the room, a large box of wires in his arms, looking confusedly in Gavin's direction.

The tall boy looked around him, the stares were choking, filling up Gavin's windpipe as he tried to speak, desperately searching for the right words to say, the words to make this right.

Silence.

Gavin pushed back his chair and fled, not knowing what else to do. He pushed past a confused looking Mr Sorola who called after him, giving up with a sigh after the first three half-hearted shouts of Gavin's name.

Charging down Tucker's small, stone staircase, the heavily breathing boy sat in the gap between the wall off one of the bottom classrooms and the red-tiled clay decoration of the stairs.

The gentle patter of soft shoes walking down hardened concrete entered Gavin's ears, but he ignored it, hoping the owner of the shoes would continue on their path either left out of the building entrance or right through clear doors into a the IT suites.

"Gavin?" A female voice caught the boy's attention, he looked up, Barbara sitting, crouched in front of him.

The girl reached out her hand and wiped tears from the etched marks under Gavin eyes; the boy hadn't even realised he had was crying.

The girl moved on her heels, sitting next to the crying teenager and resting her head on his knees, wrapping her own arms around the boy's boney legs, Gavin cuddling her in.

"You know what the worst part is?" Gavin managed, breathing in Barbara's scent, colour draining from her cheeks, the gesture visible if she wasn't wearing so much blusher.

"What?" The girl's face was a mess of sympathy, not caring that her makeup was being smudged on Gavin's black trousers, her voice the smallest it had ever been.

Gavin hiccupped slightly, head in Barbara's hair sprayed hair, whispering for only the girl to hear. "I think I'm in love with Michael Jones."

Barbara pulled back hastily, whacking Gavin in the face with her head. "You- wait- _what_?"

"Please don't tell anyone." Gavin began to plead, rubbing his nose. "Please. _Please_ , Barbie."

"Is- is that why…?" The girl was gobsmacked, did this mean Gavin never wanted to be with her?

That he had never wanted her?

"Yes. Yes." Gavin responded, clutching Barbra's slim hands. "I'm sorry I didn't say I just- You know what my Dad's like- and Dan- and-"

"You lied to me." Black tinted tears glided down Barbara's face. "YOU FUCKING LIED TO ME!"

"I didn't! Well, I didn't mean to! My Dad made me!" Barbara ripped her grasp from the boy, regretting her decision for coming to comfort the boy.

"YOU COULD HAVE ALWAYS SAID 'NO'!" Barbara shrieked.

"DON'T YOU THINK I TRIED?" Gavin responded, loudly.

They were both on their feet now, the moment of tender embrace long gone.

"YOU FUCKING FAGGOT! YOU STUPID FUCKING FAGGOT!" Barbara's voice reached such a high level Gavin actually had to cover his ears from the pitch. "YOU ALWAYS 'TRY'! MAKING UP YOUR STUPID FUCKING EXCUSES! I'VE HAD ENOUGH!"

"Barbie, just listen!"

"DON'T YOU DARE, 'BARBIE' ME!" Barbara's face was now smeared into messy patches of orange and black, a deranged smile suddenly dragging open her lips as she calmed down.

"Well too bad you can't have Michael Jones. Tried to off himself last night apparently, Lindsey said they don't even know if he'll survive." The girl's defensive wall of hatred had risen again, letting herself revel in the crestfallen look on Gavin's face. "Probably couldn't stand the thought having to fuck _you._ "

"What the hell is going on here?" Mr Oum came storming out his classroom and through double doors into the hallway. "I have a sixth form graphic design class in their trying to work and- Hey! Where the hell are you going?"

Gavin stormed away, leaving Tucker to find somewhere quiet where he could deal with his thoughts.

_Alone._

"Gavin Free!" Mr Oum started after him. "Get back here right this instant!"

The still crying boy ignored the teacher's screams and broke into a jog, trying to get as far away from reality as he possibly could.

~

"I'm not sure how long he's been sat there, Geoff. I only just caught sight of him ten minutes ago"

Geoff touched his wife's arm tenderly, looking worriedly over at Gavin's hunched over body through the window pane.

"I'll go talk to him." The man spoke calmly, sharing a weak smile with Griffon before opening one of the inside windows of Church tower, squeezing through onto the roof.

Griffon nodded and began walking away from the window calling out to her husband as she travelled down the winding staircase. "Be safe- and don't break that window!"

Geoff chuckled to himself as he managed to lumber through, grumbling under his breath. "I may be old but I'm not overweight just yet."

Out of any classroom windows sight; Gavin was sat, hunched over at the edge of the flat gravel-covered roof overlooking the changing rooms, giving him a good view of the field.

Unknown to the daydreaming Brit, Geoff was carefully making his way over to him, wincing slightly when the roof began to creak in places, praying he wouldn't fall through.

A cigarette was hung carelessly from the teen's lips, the smell of burning tobacco soothing him more than his step-father ever could. He took the flaming paper from his mouth, letting out a large exhale and watching as smoke spiralled upwards into the dreary sky.

' **It must be at least period two by now.'** Gavin mused.

He was supposed to be in science, one of the few lessons he actually shared with Michael, but he knew even if he turned up the fiery-tempered teen wouldn't be in his seat.

"Those things are gonna kill you, you know." The gruff voice shocked Gavin out of his little world, causing him to flinch and drop the stub of his cigarette.

The crumbling ash rolled away behind him in the wind, his uncle crushing it under a heavy foot.

"What are you doing here?" Gavin's voice came out an octave higher then he would've liked, a light blush rushing to his already reddened cheeks.

Geoff sighed heavily, plonking himself down next to his nephew and pulling a worrisome face as the material below them shuddered under the sudden shift of mass.

The bulky man quickly recovered though, taking a small metal case from his jacket and taking a swing, offering it to a smirking Gavin who shook his head with a small laugh. "That's gonna kill you, you know."

The man laughed heartily, placing it back into the pocket on the inside of his jacket. "It's only water, Gav. You should know I'm better than that."

"Why have it in a whiskey case then? You _stink_ like you've been drinking it." Gavin asked, confusion moulding onto his face.

Geoff contemplated for a while, deciding to let his nephew in on the secret.

"I like to watch how the other teacher's react when I take it out during meetings and around site." Geoff's eyes danced mischievously as he responded with a wink. "And the smell? The whiskey scented colleen my lovely Griffon made for my last Christmas."

Gavin burst into laughter, his genuine laughter, making his Uncle smile.

The Head Teacher had always loved Gavin's laughter; it hadn't changed a bit from when he was a kid. It was warm and dorky and never ceased to make Geoff crack up as well.

Soon the two were laughing wildly, Geoff's throaty laughter making his body, and subsequently the roof's frame, shake.

Tears ran down both of their faces, and soon they couldn't even remember what was so funny, both just laughing for the sake of laughing.

They soon calmed down, both looking outwards, Geoff sighing as he caught his breath back, putting an affectionate arm around Gavin's shoulders and squeezing gently.

Gavin leant into the touch before Geoff pulled away his arm, putting both hands behind him, supporting his back upwards as gravel left indentations into his thinning skin.

"Wanna talk about it, kiddo?" Gavin froze at the sudden seriousness in the Head Teacher's tone, wiping the remainder of the tears from around his mint-coloured irises.

"W-what's there to talk about?" The teen spoke quickly, his tone defensive.

Geoff gave him a look, looking away and staring incredulously up at the sky. "So you're telling me that you're just randomly sat moping out here to watch the grass grow? C'mon, Gav. I'm trying to help you here."

"I-" Gavin mouth slipped, there was a million things he wanted to blurt out, but each with consequences he didn't want to think about. "...I don't know where to start..."

Geoff looked at the lanky boy next to him again, his knees were bent upwards slightly, both arms both resting on his torso.

"How about the beginning?" The older began.

The boy choked out a small dry laugh. "I'm not even sure where the start _is_."

"Well, then what's the most important bit?"

Gavin's mind spurred at lightning speed.

What was the most important bit?

Where was the starting point?

One word fell quickly from the teen's mouth before he could stop it. "Michael."

Geoff pulled a perplexed expression. "Michael?"

"The- The- The kid that started 'bout a term ago."

"What year?"

Gavin rolled his eyes, picking up some pieces of gravel and fiddling with them on his palm, flicking the pieces off the side of the building. "Mine, obviously. I thought you of all people would know your own bloody students."

Geoff huffed, fighting the urge to say something about the boy's cheek. He fidgeted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, but failing miserably due to his lumbering form. "Well, I am so sorry I don't keep track of all 1200 of my pupils, Gavin. I'll be sure to ask you when I can't remember some year eight's middle name."

"You remember people just fine when it suits you..."

Geoff smirked at Gavin's back-handed compliment, searching his mind for a Michael that had started last term.

Suddenly it clicked into place. "Oh, you mean Michael Jones? Small, quiet lad with red curly hair, just moved from America with his mother?"

"Yeah." The man's nephew breathed.

"Right, okay. What about him?"

Gavin's breathing hitched, his words jumbling together. "I might of- Well I did but- Look it's- I think I'm-"

"Wow, wow, wow. Calm down there, Gav." Geoff brushed the gravel embedded in the red skin of his palms, interrupting the stuttering individual. "Take a deep breath, and tell me again. _Calmly_."

The tall boy closed his eyes, taking a long, deep breath from his nose and exhaling from his mouth, nails digging into his own arms, leaving a long pause before he opened his eyes and continued.

"I, er, h-had, sex-" Gavin heart rate quickened, he was going to be sick, he couldn't believe he was telling someone, Geoff's eye's shooting open in realisation as the boy finished. "w-with him?"

Silence.

The tattooed man opened his mouth to speak and had to close it again.

He didn't know what to say.

From all the things he had been expecting his nephew to say, that was definitely in running for the top ten things he thought the teen would never be admitting to.

The brown-haired boy's face was bright red, slender fingers covering his face from Geoff's gaze. His eyes were squeezed shut, the boy trying his best not to puke over himself.

"And Barbara...?" Geoff tried, running a hand through his hair.

Gavin mumbled into his hands. "Broke up with her the Saturday before that."

The man sighed, looking at Gavin's hunched up body and wrapping his arm around his shoulders again, but this time pulling his lanky nephew closer to his own body, putting beard-covered chin on top of Gavin's messy hair. "What's the problem, then, huh, bud?"

Gavin pulled away, confused green eyes looking upwards, his blushed covered face meeting his Uncle's smiling one. "Y-you're- You're not angry?"

Geoff laughed heartily, ruffling the boy's hair at the front. "Why the hell would I be?"

"But Dad-"

"Your step-father can go fuck himself up the ass." The man spat, biting his tongue as soon as he had spoken, looking away from Gavin.

The sounds of sport students yelling at each other from the field were all that could be heard in the distance as Geoff waited for the other's reply.

"Hey Geoff?"

"...Yeah?"

"Could move in with you guys after all?" The boy whispered, urgency sewn into his words as he placed his head against Geoff's chest again. "Please."

"Of course, buddy." Geoff was happy with Gavin's decision, relief of never having to worry about what was going on behind closed doors rushing through the older man's body. "We've always been ready to take you in."

Gavin sniffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "Even with the new baby?"

"Even with the new baby." The head responded immediately, almost interrupting his nephew.

The sound of breathing and sports studies was all that was heard again before Gavin exploding into tears, wrapping his scrawny arms around Geoff's neck tight, restricting the man's airflow slightly.

"Gav- I can't- breathe."

Gavin loosened his grip still crying. "S-sorry."

"It's okay, bud, it's okay." Geoff said comfortingly, rubbing Gavin's back.

"It's not okay, Geoff." Gavin mewed against the older's rough jacket. "I fucked up. I fucked up big style."

"Come off it, Gav." The Head Teacher continued to rub the other's back. "It can't be that bad."

"BUT IT IS GEOFF!" Gavin pulled away, standing up, tears drawn down flushed cheek, just above his stubble. "It is…"

"Then tell me what's wrong and we can work it out." Geoff also stood, arms open, ignoring the worrying signs of the building collapsing below, gesturing at both of them. "Together."

Gavin wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Yeah…"

Geoff smiled, lowering his arms. "Now, I don't know about you but I'm pretty sure if we stay up here any longer the whole fucking thing's gonna give way. So, my office?"

"Yeah." Gavin could already feel the weight of bottled secrets falling from his shoulders, allowing him to breathe properly for the first time in years. "Your office."

~

_Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep...B eep...Beep…_

The mother of Michael Jones was sat, scrunched over in her chair, having pulled the velvet covered armrest closer to her son's bedside. She thread her fingers through his, watching carefully as he breathed in and out.

He looked so peaceful; all the stress and strain of the vulnerable boy's reality invisible over his sleeping features.

Emma choked another sob, bringing the teen's hand up to her mouth and kissing the back, weary eyes bloodshot and tear-stained from a weekend of sleepless nights.

It was all her fault, how could she have been so stupid?

The scene kept running through her mind, haunting her, refusing to leave her side: coming home, finding the note, running to the bathroom-

She swore he was dead.

She _swore_.

His slumped over, puke-ridden body was breathless.

Non-Pulsating.

Dead.

She shivered, clutching the unconscious teen's hand harder, wanting more than anything in the world for him to wake up so she could have her only child back.

Hazelnut eyelashes fluttered under freckle-dotted cheeks.

The woman's breath caught in her throat, the tiny slithers of grey in the real, ginger part of her hair growing clearer to the naked eye.

"Michael?"

A shaky breath exited Michael's mouth, brown eyes opening, squinting in the direction of his mother's voice.

"Oh, Michael!" The woman threw herself around the boy's neck, sobbing hysterically with release and pure exhaustion. "My baby boy! Oh, sweetie! I was so scared."

Michael lightly touched his Mom's back, trying to speak but only managing a low cough.

_'Where am I? What's going on? Why are you crying? What time is it? Am I late for school?'_

The teen's mother pulled back, blowing into a tissue and sniffing loudly, her face turning serious "Don't you _ever_ do that to me again."

The redhead pulled a confused expression back.

"Do you hear me, young man? You are very lucky to be alive."

_Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep_

Michael's eyes widened, his heart rate increasing as he remembered his actions.

_'Oh.'_

Just outside Michael's hospital room, watching through the blinds, Gavin Free was stood, one shaking hand clutched the fabric of his shirt whilst the other hung loosely by his side. He continued to chew his lip, worried yet relieved that Michael was awake.

His Aunt stood behind him, placing a slim hand on his shoulder, speaking kindly. "The nurse said it's visiting time, you can go see him if you want."

Gavin shook his head. "I just wanted to see him. He probably doesn't want to see me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Griff." Gavin said. "I'm only here for selfish reasons. Let's go."

The woman stood silently for a few moments before pulling her black vest top down slightly and sighing. "Okay, honey."

Griffon pushed a hand around Gavin's waist leading him out of the building, the Brit looking back several times before resting a head awkwardly on his Aunt's shoulder, letting himself be taken back to his new home.

His real home.

~

Gavin arrived at school a little earlier than usual, taking public transport from the bus stop near the Ramsey's home instead of getting a lift with the Head Teacher.

The boy was stood just inside the entrance gate, smoking to pass the time as he watched people begin to file down the pathway, waiting patiently for the scrawny boy with big-fitting glasses and his year ten best friend.

Catching sight of the pair walking out of Caboose to sit on the entrance steps, Gavin silently thanked Joel wasn't with them before making his way speedily over to them, holding a folded piece of paper tightly in his left hand.

"If you've come to be a jackass, Gavin, then you can just fuck off back to your little gang." Lindsey growled at the tall boy, one of the few people in the school unafraid of his presence. She looked stressed, her scarlet- dyed hair cropping an un-makeuped face.

"I didn't come to be anything." Gavin muttered, looking behind him to make sure no one was coming through the gates to observe his interaction.

"Then what do you want?" Lindsey spoke again, the spite obvious in her voice.

Gavin looked between the two, Ray's hands were curled around a styrofoam cup of tea, his cheeks seemingly hollower than usual under his patchy black stubble.

"Could- could you give this to Michael for me please?" The football player couldn't believe he was doing this, but here he was, asking Ray and Lindsey for their help, because he was too much of a coward to talk to Michael's face.

"What is it?" Lindsey took the paper cautiously from Gavin's grasp, starting to open it, Ray looking over her shoulder curiously.

"NO." Gavin yelled, snatching the paper from the girl's hands, the girl looking up at him with an empty palm and raised eyebrows, causing the standing pupil to duck his head. "Sorry- I- it's private. Just trust me, it's for Michael only."

"Why should _we_ trust _you_?" Lindsey questioned, suspicion etching onto her features. "For all we know there could be a death threat written on that page."

Gavin opened his mouth to defend himself but had to close it again.

Lindsey was right, why the hell should they trust him?

"Besides." The scowling girl continued. "Why the hell do you suddenly care about Michael all of a sudden? Last I heard you were beating the shit out of him in Caboose toilets."

Gavin just looked at Lindsey, his expression withered and unwashed, chewing at the already ripped flesh of his bottom lip, trying one last time. " _Please._ "

"Not until I read it-"

"Lindsey." Ray's tone was serious, the younger girl making a 'humpf' noise but letting the boy speak as he gave his drink to her, straightening up and looking up into Gavin's pleading eyes.

"I'll take it to him."

The boy's stubborn friend pulled a face of disbelief. "Ray!"

"Hush, Lindsey." The Puerto Rican spoke calmly to the girl behind him, looking back at Gavin holding out his hand. "I'm only doing it under one condition though."

"Anything." Gavin blurted, pressing the paper into Ray's hand.

"Treat him right." Ray held his gaze for a while longer, shoving the square block of a scribbled notepaper into his pocket, sitting back down next to Lindsey, taking back his drink.

Gavin blushed, nodding and walking away into Caboose, shoving his hands deep into his pocket.

Lindsey watched him go, looking back to Ray who was casually sipping at his tea. "Am I the only one who has no fucking clue what's going on?"

Ray smirked, patting her knee in sympathy. "Yup."

~

Michael's eyes fluttered open again, the beeping of his heart monitor beginning to become part of the hospitalised life he was becoming accustomed to, the annoyance he felt at the sound slowly becoming less and less by each passing hour.

"Oh, you're awake!" Michael's mother put down the book she was reading and made her way over to her son, stroking the hair out of his face gently. "Want to sit up?"

"Yes, please." The teen replied, his voice finally starting to sound how it did before he had forced bleach down it.

Pressing some buttons on the side of his bed, His mother made the mattress slowly started to move upwards allowing Michael to sit up and properly face his mother, who pulled a chair over to his bedside. "Your friends came to visit, but you were asleep so I had to send them away."

Michael swallowed, nodding, his throat feeling a bit dry again. "That's fine, I'm too tired anyway. Could I have some water?"

"Of course, honey." The woman stood up, pouring two glasses of water from the jug beside Michael's table, completely bare apart from a card from Ray and Lindsey and some flowers his Mum had bought to 'brighten up the room'.

A cool glass was offered to Michael by his smiling mother, the boy lifting his arm to take it, wincing slightly at the discomfort of the IV in his arm.

' _Fucking needles.'_

"Mum?"

"Yes?" Emma took a sip from her glass, placing the liquid filled cup at her feet.

"Do you think they'll remove this needle soon? It's not like I'm hooked up to liquids or anything anymore."

"I think it's just a precaution but I'll go see what I can do." The woman replied, seeming to stand up as soon as she'd sat down.

"You don't have to go." Michael tried to stop her, hating being alone. "I was just speaking aloud."

' _Fuck, please don't go. I have nothing to do!'_

"No, if it's bothering you they should fix it." Emma began to leave. "Oh! While I remember, that charming little friend of yours with the glasses told me to give you this."

The woman handed Michael a folded piece of paper, kissing the top of his head. "I'm not sure what it is, maybe homework or something, but I think it must be important for him to bring it here. Well, I'll be two ticks."

With that Michael was alone again. He sighed, taking a longer drink from his water and managing to place it onto the side table by stretching. Taking the note in both hand Michael unfolded it, squinting at unreadable handwriting.

' _You need your glasses, you moron.'_

Michael looked left, his lenses on the farthest side of his tiny table. He knew he wasn't really suppose to get out of bed but it seemed simple enough and he'd be back under the covers before anyone knew the difference.

Sliding glasses over his nose Michael settled down again, the hastily scribbled letters on the page becoming clear.

" _Michael,_

_I know I have no right writing you this letter, and I know that if I was a real man I would come to the hospital and told you myself. But I'm not a man, I'm a stupid, cowardly boy. You have every right to be angry with me and I'm so sorry if what I did to you make you do what you did and I know-"_

The next line was scribbled out violently, gone over several times to make sure it was unreadable to the boy, with or with his glasses. Michael eyes skimmed over it, ignoring the inky black scrawl and continuing to read the next line.

" _Look, the bottom line is I'm sorry. Really sorry. The most sorry I've ever been in my entire sucky life. And if you could forgive me for all the stupid crap I've put you through I promise you'll never have anything else to forgive me for again. Ever._

_I th-"_

Scribble.

" _I miss you. It's weird, you've only been here for a couple of months and in that time everything in my stupid life has changed, some shit for the better, some shit for the worst. But by far the best thing that's happened to me is you. You may not realise Michael Jones but you taught me some really important things by your arrival to my shitty little town and I've been thinking about what we are, what our relationship is and there's something I've realised I've been meaning to tell you._

_Hopefully I'll get to do it in person when you get out of hospital._

_I do care._

_Gavin x"_

Hot, salty drops of liquid fell onto the page in front of Michael, smearing the ink in places, a large smile broadening across the student's face.

The redhead crumpled the note to his chest, looking out of the hospital window.

He was actually looking forward to school.

~

It was raining again.

Gavin slumped forward in his seat, his cheek pressed against the cold surface of the table, listening to the vibrations of Dan kicking the metal leg of the table rhythmically, keeping himself leaning backwards in his chair, laughing loudly about something stupid with the boys on the table behind them.

Surprisingly, Barbara had still not whispered a word of their fight last week and Gavin had made sure to stay as far away from Ray as possible, apart from handing him Michael's letter.

It didn't stop Gavin from staying up late every night though, pretending to sleep when his Uncle came to check on him, the overbearing feeling of dread that one day he'd come to school and everyone would know Gavin Free had lost his virginity to a boy.

Blackened rings were etched under his dull green eyes, the boy's shaggy hair was wildly splayed out at different angles on the wood coloured desk, looking desperately in need of a wash.

Not that Gavin particularly gave a shit at this point.

Opting to silently observing the class, Gavin's head laid, unmoving, as his gaze travelled upwards to Mr Sorala who was sat at his desk looking unimpressed at the classes behaviour, as usual, and was trying dismally to take the register. In the end the man simply sighed, rubbing under his glasses with the tips of his fingers, deciding he didn't have the energy to deal with the class today.

"Right, Gav?" Dan chortled, whacking Gavin's on the back, pulling him out of his people watching.

The lanky teen grunted half-heartedly.

Unwavered by Gavin's response, the well-built lad turned back to his conversation, laughing "Yeah, so as I was saying-"

Gavin tuned out Dan's voice again, uncaring for the topic at hand. The boy closed his eyes, his ear still pressed to the table's surface.

At least he didn't have to worry about Tom telling anyone, the man had resigned from the school almost immediately after Gavin had left their home, according to Geoff anyway.

Gavin smirked to himself, knowing how 'persuasive' his Uncle could be when he wanted his way.

The teen's eyes snapped open and looked towards the back of the class, gaze subconsciously travelling over to where Michael usually sat.

Joel's eye's were, like every form time, studying the morning sky, his chin resting on a large tanned hand, the sixth formers elbow resting on the empty desk, sharp brown iries intently following a grey cloud swirl in the sky, rain drops sliding down the window.

Bringing his arms onto the table, Gavin lifted his head slightly, crossing his arms under his face and burying his features into them. He took a deep breath inwards, blowing it out through his nose.

Gavin closed his sleep-ridden eyes slowly, the sounds of the classroom blurring into white noise as the teen rested his eye lids.

The white noise ceased suddenly, Gavin sitting up in his seat, wondering why everyone had stopped speaking, blood rushing to his head, causing the room to spin blurrily.

A figure was stood next to Mr. Sorola's desk, blinking slowly Gavin's world came into focus, the sight causing his breath to hitch.

Michael Vincent Jones was stood at the front on the classroom, talking in hushed tones with their form tutor, his reddish-brown hair and thick unshaven sideburns damp from the rain, peaking out under a dark green woolen beanie.

The boy's face was more sullen than the last time Gavin had seen him, though it may have been the expression he wore, the vacant worry nibbling away in Michael's shifting eyes, the marks under his eyes unchanging and unmistakable in the yellow light that lit up the room from the gloomy sky.

The teen's red sneakers had darkened considerably since his first day at the school, his dress shirt now untucked with a tie hanging low over a dark blue hoodie. His pale fingers were wrapped under the bottom of his jacket, his shirt just visible under the navy fabric, the hoodie's zip dangling halfway down his chest.

"Okay, take a seat." Mr. Sorola nodded towards Joel who pulled out the pasty teen's chair with his foot; eye's flicking briefly at Michael before returning outside the window.

Michael turned and dragged dirty white soles along the carpet, chocolate eyes boring into the floor, the class silent, watching him, piercing his already wounded flesh with their gaze.

Gavin closed his mouth, swallowing hard, un-groomed facial hair slick on his face. He stood, his chair's legs scraping dully against the tough fabric of the floor.

The student stepped out into the open row, blocking Michael's path and towering over the withered boy.

Michael looked upwards through rain-speckled glasses, his body hunched over. He brushed a shaky hand over his left arm, rubbing it cautiously, the sleeve of his jacket riding upwards slightly from the movement.

Gavin's eyelids were wide, his lips parted slightly, taking in and out shaky little breaths of relief and panic. His actions had been quick and on impulse, and now he was left with the class was staring at him instead of Michael.

The tall teen's gaze flickered around the room, confusion staring back at him.

' _ **You don't want to be a freak, do you?**_ **'**

' **Oh,** _ **Come on Gav, why are you even bothering with the losers?'**_

' _ **Gays will burn in hell.'**_

' _ **It doesn't matter, not like poofs have feelings anyway.'**_

' _ **What, are you gay or something?'**_

' _ **Theatre's for girls, you moron.'**_

' _ **You will date her and you will**_ **like** _ **it.**_ _'_

' _ **Who'd want to have sex with you anyway?**_ _'_

' _ **I always knew you were a faggot.'**_

Cruel voice's flooded Gavin's mind.

What was he doing?

This was wrong, he didn't need Michael.

He _needed_ his _family_.

He didn't like boys, he was going to take sports studies in sixth form, his Dad would love him again, he'd play as captain of the team, he'd date Barbra, he could rewrite it all, he could re-do every messed up path.

Do everything right.

"Gavin?" A small voice interjected, pulling Gavin to the surface of his panic, the cruel words melting away around him.

Michael's eyes were soft and forgiving, sadness still pulsating weakly from his deep within pupils, peeking out of lowered lashes.

Question's misted over Gavin's mind.

Had Ray given him the letter?

Did Michael understand?

Did he forgive him?

There was one thing the gangly boy knew for sure though.

He didn't deserve Michael's love.

"Hey, faggot." The Brit suddenly snarled, the words escaping his mouth before he could stop himself.

The messy-haired boy squared up to the smaller teen, glowering below at him.

The remaining shreds of forgiveness melted away from Michael gaze, the softness hardening with hurt, sadness rising to the corners of his tear ducts, Gavin's face coming closer to his own.

' _ **Treat him right.'**_

The world stood still, yet went too fast, Gavin's mouth colliding with Michael's. A rough hand came upwards, cupping the smaller boy's cheek.

Michael's eyes were wide, maroon irises shaking, Gavin's squeezed tightly shut. Facial hair brushed coarsely against the smaller's soft pale skin as Michael's hand travelled up the other's chest, clutching his shirt, slowly closing his eyelids, a lone-tear falling down his cheek.

They pulled away, the classroom gasping in shock, Gavin's hand still touching the Michael's face.

Gavin stroked the tear away with his thumb and whispered hoarsely into Michael's ear, the words echoing around the teen's mind on repeat as Gavin slumped backwards into his seat, a shit-eating, super-sized grin plastered to his arrogant, wonderful, stupid face.

" _I love you."_

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you also know my lovely art partner for this writing made a charming little high school AU mavin fanmix as well?  
> You can check it out here:  
> http://8tracks.com/scootsaboot/liar


End file.
